


Attention

by HealthDrink



Series: Overwatch Bundle [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Boats and Ships, Car Chases, Cold Openings in Chapt 7 & 8, Comfort Scene, Crime Boss Angela, F/F, Flirtationship, Gangster Fareeha, Gen, Girls with Guns, Hate to Love, Implied Sexual Content, Luxury, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Operas, Overwatch - Freeform, Pharah x Mercy - Freeform, Pharmercy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reporter!Emily, Rock references fuck yeah, Russian Mafia, Smoking, Tattoo Marks, Torture, Underworld, Victims of Causality, Why isn't there a tag for tough love?, hand holding, rocket angel, semi-hiatus, trigger warning, villains in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealthDrink/pseuds/HealthDrink
Summary: Pharmercy story set in a Gangster AU, based on Super Risu's amazing drawings and inspired by Logos' and orenjikitty's takes on the setting, specifically this piece: https://tinyurl.com/y6ub7979





	1. Nightclub - Avantator - Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha mulls over whether she should return to Mercy or not after a failed operation with the Russian Mafia.

The loud noises of the seedy nightclub could make lost souls come back from the dead. A pensive, striking figure in the far back couldn't care less. With how well built the figure looked from afar and two gorgeous women fawning all over on either side, you could easily mistake that person for a man. A very confident, dangerous man. Someone to never mess with.

The family symbol dangling down the sharp neck was proof enough.

But Fareeha Amari, the figure in question, was anything but.

The ladies kept pressing themselves against her, begging for the gangster's attention. But her mind was elsewhere. Staring at the empty dance floor in front of them, there was only one person on Fareeha's mind, despite all efforts.

It's been almost a month since she last saw  _her_.

A memory from awhile ago flickered into her mind.

* * *

"Sit down, Fareeha."

Her tone was not as harsh as she thought it would be. Fareeha had to ask Angela if she was off the hook for the earlier fuck up that happened before. "Am I forgiven for the police chase? No punishment...?"

The crime boss kept looking at the moon, her back turned towards her, a light jacket hanging on one shoulder.

Fareeha sighed. It was not usual for Mercy to behave like this. She said down on the chair as she was told to, without soft protests or teasing this time. There was a time in their... contract agreements that the mere thought of teasing her boss was out of the question.

Good thing those days are over.

In return, Angela took a puff from her expensive Cuban cigar. She asked Pharah what date it was today very casually.

"January 23rd?" Mercy's right hand woman asked curiously. Then she remembered the importance of the date. "Isn't that..."

"Yes," Angela said, the uncharacteristic waiver in her voice catching Fareeha's attention. "Today, exactly twelve years ago, the Shimada clan ceased to exist." An old newspaper rag was thrown towards Fareeha. She picked it up, reading the front article.

It was hard to miss.

 **"NOTORIOUS CRIME GANG SHIMADA DRAGONS**... Yakuza bosses... kidnap youngest Nobel Prize winner..."

Pharah looked up to Mercy. No response.

"Dr Angela Ziegler was last seen..."

Mercy took another draw from her cigar. The tension around them could be cut with a knife.

Pharah patiently waited for the boss to continue, a reprimand concerning the chase practically forgotten.

"The networks grew bored of me and my disappearance after six months. As far as the mainstream is concerned,  _that_  Angela is dead."

Whenever Dr Ziegler recalled her life before she became a mafia boss, it was like seeing a film reel. No way she was that person back then. It cannot be. "I was a different person. I was... normal? Perhaps. I did not come from an established cosca like you. But that was a long time ago."

Angela saw her younger self climb the steps up in order to receive her Nobel Prize. She had essentially created immortality with her extensive research on nano-machines. She had achieved a miracle in science. With that project being successful, it was only a matter of time cancer would've become part of the history books.

It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

Until they came.

They killed everyone in sight. Including her beloved parents, who were in the front row for that special event.

The Shimadas took her hostage, and, eventually, kidnapped her to their headquarters for their own use. She will never forget the blood of her parents on her hands. How powerless she felt during that horrible night.

Fareeha gritted her teeth in response. This did not go unnoticed by the boss.

They locked her up into a colourless cell, she continued. The only connection she had with the outside world was an unreachable window, with the moon clearly in sight. Every night, she carved a roman line on the walls of her prison.

One.

Five.

Fifteen.

One hundred and eight.

Until she stopped, giving up on her freedom completely.

She attempted to kill herself on that particular night. But the Shimadas brought her back through her own technology.

It couldn't have been more ironic.

They never bothered to give her anything that she could use to harm herself from that day forth.

But they never knew were to search her properly for concealed items. As they say, women have more hiding places than men.

Fareeha raised an eyebrow in that regard. Mercy let a small smile slip through her mask of ice, placing a slender finger on her lips.

"It's not where you first thought, Fareeha."

After seeing the proud Amari hide a blush from her, Angela looked back to the full moon, the small smile disappearing as she recalled past events.

Where the only trace of life she had beyond the four corners of her cell was the moon and nothing else.

"They had told me the media and scientists weren't the only ones interested in my research. That I would achieve great things through them."

They only let Angela outside her cell to 'continue' on her research.

The Shimadas wanted to profit from Dr Ziegler's research. In order to achieve profit, Angela had to produce a huge quantity of her once proudest achievement.

Through many. Many. Countless subjects.

Boss told Pharah everything that night. How she tortured innocent lives in the Shimada's name. How she had felt useless during their countless cries for help. How she felt trapped within those metal walls that kept her imprisoned.

Minute after minute.

Hour after hour.

She still doesn't know how for long she had stayed there.

 _Mercy_ , they'd cry.  _Have mercy on us all!_ Their screams would never stop.

_Mercy!_

_**Mercy!** _

_**Please!** _

Until something inside her snapped.

And Angela Ziegler was no more.

Her bodyguard stayed silent.

Everyone knew how Angela had destroyed the Shimada brothers from within. But she had never heard this part of the story. The part were Angela was a mere mortal, struggling to keep her sanity intact despite the harshness around her, day after day, without an end in sight. If the hold on the chair was any tighter, you'd think Pharah was choking someone to death.

But Fareeha kept her anger towards the deceased members of the Shimada clan to herself.

* * *

Angela started euthanizing the innocent without her kidnapper's permission. Experiment without limits on the captured criminals.

Learn how the Shimadas operated, how to kill, how to negotiate.

In a way, her tormentors became her invaluable teacher.

It couldn't have been more ironic.

Mercy started talking about the manner she orchestrated the demise of one of the most notorious criminal gangs in the city from within with precise detail. Poisoning the two leaders with untraceable venom in their system, making them paranoid of each other. How she carefully planted two valuable artefacts to be found in each other's compound, to frame one another. How that helped the brothers declare civil war, both sides of the clan shelling each other like frenzied ants, within the compound and in the streets.

Mafia historians called it the 'Battle of the Dragons'.

The people who lived through those times called that bloody war the Shimada Massacre.

No one ever suspected the poor, traumatised,  _broken_  little doctor, not even the leaders themselves.

Especially the older brother. He seemed to have taken a liking for the vulnerable image she had created around her at the time.

She took advantage, but was no fool. Angela always carried a scalpel on her whenever he was around.

Just in case.

He never would've seen it coming anyway, had he tried anything.

Mercy took another drag from her cigar, pausing for a long minute. Pharah let her continue, even though every respectable mobster knew what was coming next.

There was only one winner out of that bloodbath that night. The night the two brothers tore each other apart, it gave birth to one of the most feared criminal masterminds of the entire city. After killing two pretenders with only a broken piece of glass and her carried scalpel, the remaining members all swore their loyalty to her. She built her own empire from the Shimada's ashes. Mercy didn't even lift a single finger on either brother, but she still took their lives.

After what they took away from her, it was only fair.

* * *

The crime boss still showed her bare back to her bodyguard. Leaning towards the opened window, she kept staring at the full moon.

"It's funny... I used to want to shoot down that blasted thing whenever it was in the sky. I didn't want a reminder of those days."

She finished her cigar, leaving it in the ashtray. Angela finally turned back into the room, slowly walking towards Pharah. With a new cigar in mouth, she leaned towards the Amari heiress. She didn't wait long. Pharah's zippo was already in the air to use. Angela inhaled once, and exhaled all over her protector in an immodest manner.

Fareeha never flinched when she did that. Not once. Perhaps she didn't mind.

"Now, whenever I look at the moon, I no longer think of that cell."

Fareeha stayed silent.

"It looked just like this... when you came here."

The silence between them continued. Fareeha let a little, but just a little, concern show on her stoic face.

Mercy came in front of Pharah, cigar still in hand. She stared straight into Fareeha's eyes, as if she couldn't break eye contact from them.

"It looked exactly like this."

Until Pharah asked. She had to, especially after...

"Why are you telling me this? All of this? You don't need to tell me any of this."

That seemed to stun Mercy a little. But she recovered soon enough. "Why, indeed..."

The smile that formed on her face was unlike anything that Fareeha saw before. It was a mix between a calm demeanour and a ravenous vulture. Mercy calmly walked towards Pharah, making her wonder if this was the last day of her life.

She instantly started conjuring up what she could do to escape-

"Because I swore on that day, Fareeha Amari... I swore from that day onward, that no one would ever make me beg for anything ever again."

The manner she spoke was low, soft and creamy. Almost like she wanted to place Pharah under her spell. All thoughts of escape vanished in an instant. As her bodyguard got distracted by her voice alone, Angela drew closer.

The slow sound of Angela's heels echoing in the moon lit room brought the attention of the one person she ever cared about.

True.

Mercy had considered her attraction to the Amari heiress a weakness at one point. Her powerful family were both her strongest business partner and closest rivals. But when you are involved in the mob, everything you want is a weakness that can be traced back, if you're not careful enough. After testing Fareeha many times, Angela decided it was time she wanted to...  _improve_  what was between them.

What is the point of having everything, if you cannot enjoy your riches with someone forever?

She'll spare Pharah the second thought for now. Now she had... other things in mind.

"Not for my freedom. Not for my life. Nothing. I would never beg again for anything."

Mercy switched her cigar off.

Suddenly, she was all over Pharah, long legs parting to straddle the Egyptian on top of the chair, surprising the Amari heiress completely.

She essentially trapped Fareeha with no promise of escape.

This time, her smile was not inviting any sort of danger. It was... vulnerable.

Mercy placed her hand delicately on Pharah's tattooed eye, which led the hired hitman not hiding surprise towards her boss. The angelic crime boss was pleased that she had broken through the Amari heiress' stoic facade. It made her look even more beautiful than the first time she had laid eyes on her a few years before. The arrangement agreed between her and Ana Amari simply... hastened Angela's plans to lure her daughter to her side. In a very convenient manner too.

"I swore to myself..." as the Angel of Death herself started stroking Pharah's tattoo with her perfectly manicured thumb, every movement was distracting. Not that you could tell, with Pharah's perfect poker face swiftly returning between her and her emotions.

Somehow, Angela could see right through it.

Her voice dropped to an even lower pitch. "That anything that I wanted... I would have the power to take with my own two hands..."

She stopped, her hand still cupping Fareeha's stoic face.

"And that  **no one**  would ever stop me."

* * *

Fareeha was still in the nightclub.

She grew bored of the two floozies clinging around her. The more she drank, the more the vision she had of Angela grew stronger.

Almost like she was right in front of her. Dancing in the background. Waiting for Fareeha to join her.

Pharah glared at whoever she was seeing as Mercy, as Fareeha knew her boss wasn't there. The fake Angela smiled back at her.

The song in the background matched her heartbeat and thoughts instantly.

**You just want attention, you don't want my heart**

**Maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new**

She hated that beautiful smile. Was it fake? Was it real?

What did she want from her?

**Yeah, you just want attention, I knew from the start**

Did she just want a warm body in her bed?

Did she just see her as a voiceless bodyguard who would do anything she pleased? Like a good dog?

Fareeha unconsciously bared her teeth at the thought. No way would she ever submit to anyone like that. Not even to Mercy, the Angel of Death, herself. When did she let Angela get under her guard?

Was it that night, when they were by the pool? Or their first night together?

The night when she held both Angela Ziegler and the Angel of Death in her arms?

**You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you**

Or... did she want something  _else_  from her? Something more than just a cheap, sexual thrill?

That thought made Fareeha Amari pause.

The possibility of Mercy wanting her to be her equal was  _electrifying_.

One of the women squeezed her bicep, finally getting her attention. Now that she realises it... both of the ladies surrounding Pharah looked  _just_  like her boss. Yes. One of them had their hair tied up, but she undeniably resembled her. The other looked like her a lot, but with short hair...

She narrows her eyes at the Mercy only she can see on the dance floor. She looked satisfied at Fareeha's conclusions.

So that's what's gonna be like from now on. She won't ever get Mercy out of her head, no matter how far away from her she went.

Not that she planned to stay away for long.

She just needed a break from everything. The failed operation with Zayra and the Russians. Her  _cherished_  mother returning from the grave.

Angela being...

_Your job... is to do whatever the hell **I** tell you to do. _

**Angela.**

_Well._  She lit a Cuban cigar that devil loved to smoke, the scent cruelly reminding Fareeha of her lover. _It's time for me to return._

Fareeha was not like her mother, after all. She faced her problems, not ran away from them.

She looked at her now completely healed chest. She had rested enough.

The younger Amari placed her whiskey on the table. Now, the big question. Will Mercy welcome her with open arms? Or will she shoot her the second she returned to her head quarters?

There was one way to find out.

She noticed a drunk teenager next to the bar who had a specific set of keys hanging outside of his trousers carelessly. Keys that belonged to a unique type of sports car.

A car a boy like him should  _definitely_  not own at his age.

Fareeha set her mind up. She will return to Mercy. The projection of her boss blew a kiss towards her.

But on her terms.

Even though Angela was still her boss.

 

In more ways than one.

* * *

Mercy looked straight into her bodyguard's eyes. The ice in her eyes seemed to have melted a little.

Perhaps Fareeha was just being a sap.

"Will you swear your loyalty to me?" she asked softly, as Angela resumed stroking her face, tracing Pharah's jawline seductively. "Or will you try to stop me?"

Pharah gave that question one long minute, her perfume and cigar aroma invading all senses. Finally, she spoke.

"Are you giving me a choice, doctor?"

Angela leaned into Pharah's face, just a few inches away from her lips. "Only you."

Fareeha left a chuckle escape from her lips, the look on Angela's face became unreadable. "What an honour."

She felt Mercy place a kiss on her jaw, stopping her playful mood. Her boss moved towards the nearest ear, the timber of her voice sending shivers all over Pharah's body. "Now. Answer me. Or I'll do it for you."

This captured the Egyptian's curiosity. She could answer for her. In what manner would she see Fareeha as...?

"Tell me how you would answer for me."

It wasn't a statement. It wasn't even a question.

It was an invitation.

Mercy's smile curled upwards at Fareeha's boldness. She was now used to it. In fact, she cherished whenever Fareeha challenged her methods.

She was the only one in her entire compound to have the guts to do so. And lived to tell the tale.

The boss pushed her bodyguard slowly into the chair, letting the jacket she had resting on her shoulders fall on the floor. A flick of long blonde hair spilled out in its place, as Angela's breath slowly ghosted over Fareeha's parted lips, making scarlet eyes drift lower at the feel of Angela's thumb sliding down at the base of her neck, her heart beat pulsating with every stroke. 

"You are mine, Fareeha Amari. You belong to me. Only me." She started to untie the piece of striped cloth around the loosened collar, Pharah let her do so. Mercy started tracing the tattoos on her body, as if seeing them for the first time. "As long as you breathe, you must  **always**  return to me."

She slid a sharp nail on top of an inked patch of her neck. Pharah hissed at the sudden sensation, but not out of pain.

"Have a tattoo that shows you belong to me. I want everyone to know that."

The sheer  _possessiveness_  in Angela's voice made the former solider feel warmth all over her body.

Amongst other things.

In return, Fareeha resumed stroking the back of the sultry woman above her. Both the vulnerable, lost doctor and the ruthless, invincible crime boss looked back, staring very intensely. The Egyptian silently hoped she was the only one to see this side of her... boss?

What can she call her now?

"I believe it's high time  **you**  have a mark on your body, boss."

For now, she played it safe.

Mercy stayed silent to that. Fareeha wasn't going to press on. She knew her limits, even with the... possibilities now available.

Until she replied.

"Perhaps..." as she leaned to kiss her guard's neck, on the same spot she had hurt moments earlier. "I can see the appeal of it now."

Whilst Mercy was occupied... elsewhere, Pharah started to remove her dress. Neither breaking eye contact, both watching what the other was doing.

When one became as exposed as the other, Mercy inclined towards Fareeha, her intent clear for the night.

The same goes for the many other stolen moments between them in the future.

Angela whispered tenderly towards her guard, almost like she had returned to her former self just for Pharah to see.

"Yours."

Their first kiss was full and passionate. Not once did they clash, fitting each other so well. Like they were made for each other.

They stopped for breath, both feeling they were about to cross a line.

This would make each other more vulnerable in the cruel world they live in.

Then, Fareeha spoke.

"Mine."

No more words were needed.

* * *

She tossed a high amount of money towards the two ladies who kept her company earlier.

"Distract him," pointing towards the unsuspecting frat boy. Pharah walked towards the exit, where the daddy's pet happened to be hanging towards, as the bar was next to it. She bumped into him straight on, giving the spoilt brat one hell of a glare as he tried to look tough in front of the girls who were now walking towards him. He was surprised to see that they surrounded him like he was a celebrity.

Perhaps one of them  **finally**  found out who his father was.

One gave Pharah a look that begged for a reward afterwards. Anyone who was weak would've indulged that.  _They_ _think I'm coming back._  Fareeha smiled, looking at her newly acquired set of keys. She didn't need them anymore. She never did.

Unsurprisingly, the drunkard took the bait immediately. He was too occupied thinking with his third leg to realise his precious set of keys were missing. By the time he did, his priceless Aventator was nowhere to be found. His whining practically invited pity from no one.

"My dad is gonna be  **so**  pissed!  **Fuck!"**

* * *

Said SuperVeloce was being used by Fareeha in order to reach Angela as fast as possible.

Not that she asked for more than this car as transportation, wincing at how maltreated the poor Lamborghini was.

"Asshole never bothered to wash you, apparently... fuck. What is this bad smell? It's coming from..."

It was coming from the back.

"Urrrrrgh..." Poor Fareeha did the good old two plus two solution in her head. "Makes me almost regret picking you up."

The supercar seemed to growl in protest.

Fareeha patted on the steering wheel, like she was actually talking to the car. "I did say almost. You've got a new owner now."

The purr coming from the engine was good enough as a response.

Still, the smell was too much to bear. Fareeha opened the window next to her, despite the black tinted glass being an advantage for her.

Who was going to bother to see who was driving fast this late at night?

She knew the answer to that. But they'd have to  _reach_  Pharah first before they could dream of chasing her.

She laughed at the idea.

Pharah shifted gear, taking advantage of the empty road due to the late hour. She will reach her destination soon enough.

Fareeha glanced at the dashboard.  _Fucker even left his mobile here._ She laughed at the teenager's ineptitude.  _Hah, what an id-_

Hold on a second.

She can phone Angela through his phone.

Tell her she is okay.

That she was coming home.

...

No. Giving her a surprise was far more exciting.

* * *

Two officers were doing the dull work of patrolling the border as beat cops.

"This suuuucks, Winston," the girl with a fresh face whined adorably towards her partner. "Who knew when movies said being a beat cop is the **worst**  part of police work, they actually meant it?! I want some action, goddammit all!"

Winston, the sentient gorilla who was patiently doing his job, tried to keep his hyperactive partner (and friend) happy from going insane with boredom. "Why don't you try calling your lady friend, Lena? I'm sure she misses you too."

"Winston, it's three am in the morning! Poor Emily needs to sleep too... I can't phone her again. I did that an hour ago!"

Winston nodded understandably. "True, true. But I thought... with the way she talks to you during this hour, she misses you too."

Lena's pout was adorable. Winston was almost tempted to hug her just because. The little Brit had that effect on people.

"Poor Emily. Almost everyday we have to go through this. She's probably in her bed now. In the cold. All alone."

Lena's eyes widened in a manner that said it all.

"All alone!"

Crap. Somehow he made Lena feel  **worse**. He hated when that happened. "Oh god Winston! I can lost her if I don't get a promotion soon! This is how it works in movies! If couples are separated for too long, it's game over! Emilyyyy~  **no!**  I love you, wait, come baaaaack! Don't leave me! Noooooo-!"

She's daymaring again. There goes the hug coupon number seventy three, punched in. "There, there," Winston said almost amused as his friend bawwed on his shoulder like a baby. "I'm sure you'll reach an understanding, the both of you..."

Their distraction proved to be a big help for Fareeha.

_Crap. Cops! I gotta slow down a bit._

She does effectively. The beeper on Lena's radar signalled the supercar did not go over the limit.

Fareeha takes time to look at the two beat cops. They look oddly familiar.

The fact that no profile of them automatically showed up in Fareeha's mind proved their identity was irrelevant.

Fareeha never forgot a face, after all. That was a distinctive Amari trait that has been passed down the family line for generations.

She pressed on, focusing on returning to her boss for the remaining trip.

"Wow!" Lena looked at the on going Lambourgini from Winston's shoulder. "That's a brand new Lamb! And a SuperVeloce to booth!" She whistles in admiration. "Phew. To own one of those beauties... although a classic Alfa Romeo Spider would be good enough for me. I can see me and Emily now..." The aspiring detective sighed as she looked into the scene only imagination can provide. "Ah, look at that sunset~"

"You don't need that car, Lena," Winston said, ever the wiser. "Never wish for items that don't belong to you. You'll lead a happier life like that."

Fantasy mode. Gone. "Yes, muuuuuuum."

Winston let go of the British squirrel. Lena wiped the tears out of her eyes in order to act tough.

"Good girl. Now, lovely car aside, that's in the past now. Let's get back to work."

"Right!"

It's a good thing Lena had technically distracted Winston when she did.

Otherwise he would've recognised the heir to the Amari Empire the second she had passed by them.

* * *

Fareeha did say that she won't phone Angela.

In fact, she isn't.

She is using someone else's phone.

Third call. Fourth call. Sevent-

"Who the fuck are you. And how did you get a hold of this number."

Ah, her royal bitchiness herself. Dammit, she _did_ miss her. Who knew.

"...Is this some sort of joke? Be careful, I can trace your call if I wanted to. Do not challenge me, whoever you are."

Fareeha stayed silent. This was too good to ruin.

"Fine."

A snap of fingers was clearly audible from the smartphone. A small smile escaped Fareeha's lips, but still stayed silent.

"You are being traced at this very moment. Sooner or later, I  **will**  know who you are. Speak, before it gets worse for you."

There goes Angela. Always giving obstacles a chance. Never a second one though. She does need to fix that problem, otherwise she'd have less minions following her than Junkrat-

"Speak.  **Now.** "

Anyone else would've, after peeing a little. But that voice just makes Fareeha press the pedal  _harder_.

She must see the route Pharah was taking if she was really tracing her. She takes a shortcut only mafiosi and getaway drivers knew about.

"The tunnel of-!" That made her pause. "You're one of us, then."

There was a little silence between them. Perhaps Fareeha could dare to think that Angela had missed her a little...?

"If you dare come here again, I will gut your whole being and feed your remains to the local cats!"

That made Fareeha slow down a little, the winds in her sails disappearing a bit.

Was she  _that_  mad at her? Perhaps she did think their relationship was something-

"That's right Gerard. Crawl back from the hole you came! If you keep going to my clinic I'm going to personally strangle you for the fuck up you made!"

Was that right? She's pissed at Gerard.

!

She's pissed at  _Gerard!_ Good, good. She got worried there for a second.

Pharah started the engine as loudly as possible. It's not like she'll suffer her angel's wrath for it.

**"GERARD!"**

Boy she's mighty pissed. Fareeha was almost tempted to ask.  _What did Gerard do this time?_

Maybe later. This was getting fun.

"Close the gate! Close it! I don't want to see that stupid French fucker ever again in my life!"

You'd think that voice would be a shrill one. No, not Mercy. Her imposing voice alone would make people go into the fire in order to serve her.

Allah, she loved that woman.

She'd better hurry up, or she won't see her again.

* * *

By the time the gate closed, Fareeha could have made Drive (the video game) tricks all over it, reversed and started all over again.

Hmm. If Angie didn't love this amazing car, who she'd have to choose?

...Now  **that**  was a tough question.

The baby blue eyed angel in question was no longer on the phone with her. Apparently she decided to shot down Gerard the second he got out of the car. As a sniper or directly? Hmm...  _decisions_.

"Gerard, I have no idea what is in your system right now, but you've got  **balls**  man. Balls, I tell you. No matter what happens, this will be  _legendary._ "

She couldn't help but agree with one of Mercy's servants, not recognising his voice.  _Must be new._ Fareeha drove straight into the parking lot of Mercy's HQ. She could swear she saw a flicker of light from the window the local sniper usually hangs about. It was hard to see with all windows pulled up after her chance encounter with the cops.

 _Must be her._  Gerard must've fucked up big tim- is that her parking spot, all empty and alone?

Holy fuck, it is!

* * *

Unknowingly to Fareeha, Mercy had prepared an anti tank rifle to aim straight to Gerard for two simple reasons.

Yes. An anti tank rifle. You read that right the first time.

Mercy was doing this because:

One. He had fucked up big time. Again. And this time, there was no Fareeha to save his ass once again.

Two. There was no Fareeha. She was actually losing hope now. Surely she would've called by now if she were okay-

Oh no.

She did not just see that happen.

That filthy, slimy, arrogant FROG EATING PIECE OF SHI-  **PARKING IN THE SPACE OF _HER_**   **FAREEHA?!**

 _Loudly,_  might she add.

"Oh, that's it!" Mercy started charging the rifle. " _You've got another thing coming to mess with Angela Zie_ -"

"Hey sweetie."

The headpiece she had on her ear filled up with a very familiar voice. Enough that the so called Angel of Death was stopped on her tracks.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic."

The underworld boss (who is technically Ana, but don't tell Mercy _that_ ) stayed frozen for a few seconds.

"But I'm here now, so... hello?"

No response.

"...Hello?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone~
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this one. Had a lot of fun writing it. Chapter 2 will be up shortly!
> 
> Here's a cookie for everyone who caught the Gangster's Paradise ref in the fic. You have taste, my friend. :D


	2. Jacket - Appex - Merlot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha returns home, Angela challenges her to a race on their anniversary and recalls when she saw Ana Amari's heir for the first time.

As she entered the now accustomed (and welcomed) biomedical research lab entrance, Pharah was expectantly stopped by two familiar faces. The two guards spat their words towards Fareeha.

“Dr Ziegler requires you go to her office suite immediately. You cannot refuse this request.”

Like Pharah ever refused, even when she could’ve.

Fareeha let the guards guide her towards the elevator. Huh. It got fixed, apparently. Lobby music started playing as they entered the lift. That got added too.

Interestin-

**-ding-**

At the far end of the elevator entrance, a very familiar blonde was staring straight towards Fareeha.

And a very **angry** one, at that.

If looks could kill, she’d been laid out in the city morgue in that precise moment.

_“Leave us.”_

Even Pharah was starting to get worried about her own skin now.

The two guards exited the lift without hesitation. She almost called for them to stay.

As Dr Ziegler entered the elevator, a sound of keys turning was heard. The elevator doors closed instantly, locking themselves entirely.

Fareeha closed her eyes at that moment. She expecting Angela to yell at her. Or slap her.

Or just get a gun out and blast her brains all over the elevator floor.

Something.

Fareeha slowly started opening her eyes.

Anything?

* * *

“So, Miguel.”

“Yeah, Tulio?”

“20 bucks they’re gonna fuck.”

“No way, didn’t you see her? Boss is **pissed.** I’ll be amazed if Pharah leaves that lift unscratched!”

“Okay then. 20 bucks if they fuck, 30 if Pharah leaves the lift in a body bag.”

“Now you’re on, my old friend. My money is on the exact opposite!”

“You’re too predictable, mister ‘horse whispering’ nincompoop.”

“I don’t talk to horses! That was one time, and I was drunk! How many times do I have to say that?!”

“Keep telling that to yourself, bud. I’ll never let you live it down for as long as I breathe.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Alright, for that alone, the bet is doubled if what **you** betted on actually happens.”

“You’re on!”

* * *

Pharah looked towards Mercy, her reaction being unexpected.

She first felt a hand on her tattooed eye, surprising her completely.

“You returned,” she said softly, as Angela gently kept tracing Fareeha's eye tattoo. “You came back to me.”

Fareeha wanted to say something nice. She went missing for a long period too.

But then remembered the reason she didn’t come home right after her wounds healed from the high-speed heist. “Doesn’t really matter. Someone else probably kept you warm while I was away.”

The sting on Fareeha’s face was more something she was familiar with. Pharah looked back at Mercy without turning towards her.

“Tell me, isn’t that what happened-?”

“How **dare** you,” the anger that showed before returning in a second. “Do you have **any** idea how much I-?!” She leaned into Fareeha’s chest, slamming her fist on the shoulder as hard as she could. It hurt like a bitch, but Fareeha let Mercy hit on her injury again. She didn’t know of the wound there. “I almost started a **war** with Zarya. **And** the Triads. Because I believed I **lost** you-”

On that, Pharah held her wrist, concern on her face. The Chinese?

“What do the _fucking Chinese_ have to do with the Russians?”

Mercy sighed, rubbing her temple out of frustration.

“Because if you mess with _Zarya_ , you mess with **Mei**. Just as messing with _you_ , means messing with **me**.”

Any other day, Pharah would have been touched by those words. “I’d have liked hearing that if I didn’t see you fucking around _just_ before I left for Russia.”

Angela tried getting her other hand back. Pharah didn’t let her. _“Let me go."_

“The truth,” Pharah curtly demanded. “That… _informer_. Hacker, whatever. _How **fucking close** are you?_ ”

“ _She_ kissed _me._  I wasn’t given time to react. You have to believe me-”

“Oh is that right,” Pharah's hold got tighter. “And I’m supposed to _just_ believe you like that?”

“S-stop. You’re, you’re hurting me. Let me go, Fareeha-!”

* * *

The two guards got a little worried. Those were not promising noises.

Well, _Tulio_ was a lot more worried.

* * *

Pharah let go immediately, stunned at her own lack of control. “I… I’m sorry. That will never happen again.”

Angela was still shocked by the fact that Pharah, of all people, had actually hurt her, even if a little. But she had to get this out of her system. “Are you telling me... if that Mexican schlampe didn’t surprise me when she did… you would’ve come home sooner?”

That question made Pharah look at Mercy.

Really look at her.

Angela looked like she didn’t sleep in weeks. No, months. The bags under her eyes made her look much older. Her frame was not as plump as it once was. It was almost skeletal. “Angie…” Angela looked up at her guard. Fareeha felt regret towards her actions. “When was the last time you ate... something?”

What Pharah heard next hurt more than how resigned Angela seemed after retreating her hand.

“That doesn’t concern you.“

“Yes, it does.”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. But there was still a trace of defiance in her tone of voice.

“I ate enough. Now… let’s go to sleep. I’m… I’m tired, Faree. Please.”

That was enough. They could talk tomorrow. The sting still hurt her face.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

* * *

First, Boss left the lift.

She was looking pristine as always. Not one hair out of place.

Then, Fareeha left the lift.

Alive _and_ in one piece. Not one part of her was misplaced in any way.

Apart from that unmissable smack mark on her cheek. But no signs of hooky on either gangster was to be seen.

Which means...

“Unbe-fucking-leavable!!”

“Aaay, caramba! There **is** a God out there!” Miguel played his invisible guitar enthusiastically. “You owe me some, you owe me some, nya nya-!”

Tulio reluctantly gave away his money. “You’re so fucking lucky. The **ONE TIME** I bet on-“

“Guards?”

Both ex-bandits reversed back into work mode.

“Escort Fareeha to the penthouse. I need to discuss with Lucio downstairs.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

* * *

Pharah returned to the living room where the swimming pool was nearby. A familiar bird started approaching the mobster.

“Can’t believe I actually missed you, you stupid-“

The African Grey bird launched itself onto Fareeha. Good thing there was a cage between them.

“ _FAREEHA!_ Go away! Go away! Amari suck! You made mama cry!" - **-BRAWWWWRK!!** \--

What.

Angela? CRY? That was like asking for the devil to sing a Christmas carol. It does not happen.

Did it?

That made the intelligent bird flap it’s wings even harder, almost to shoo the Egyptian away from its sight.

“You make mama cry! Mama didn’t eat for weeks! Mama stay awake for weeks! Fareeha suck! I hate you, hate you-!!”

“Sigrún.”

The big bird calmed down instantly hearing its masters voice. “Mommy’s okay. Be quiet.”

“Okay. Love you." - **BRAWK-**

Fareeha stayed facing the African Grey. It thankfully listened to Angela and returned napping.

“You lied.”

A sigh was heard in the background. “You wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

“Yes, I would’ve. And I would’ve fed you everything I could find down your throat.”

“You could still do that.”

Fareeha wasn't in the mood for games. “Why did you lie?” Fareeha’s tone almost became as cold as Mercy’s on a bad day. “Is there anything else this stupid bird needs to tell me before I find out from the others?”

“Enough.” The plead in her voice was obvious. “Enough. I kept that detail to myself. I told you everything else,” Fareeha felt two slender arms wrap around her. “Come with me. Please.”

The pain in Fareeha's chest made her reluctant to listen.

But her mind and body already followed Mercy to her chamber.

* * *

Once in there, she realised Angela was saying the truth. On the side where she used to sleep on, Fareeha recognised the old jacket she wore when she was hired as Angela’s bodyguard. The one Mercy would not have hesitated to burn the first time they had officially met.

Only one side of the bed was slept in.

_Angie…_

Angela discarded that jacket out of the way immediately, removing any sense of empathy Pharah had growing towards that item of clothing. She started thugging the helm of the shirt Fareeha was wearing. Sighing, she did as instructed, though was not exactly in the mood for midnight cuddles-

The second she removed it, Angela claimed the shirt and wore it over her nightgown, remaining quiet.

 _That_ made Fareeha’s mood turn 180 degrees. “Angie, _habibti._  You missed me that mu-“

-to then see none other than the Angel of Death herself flop on her side of the bed like a baby seal who got shot.

“Sing for me Faree. That’s all I want for tonight.”

Fareeha (reluctantly) switched whatever mood she was in off and spooned right next to her. She started rubbing her boss' scalp very gently, noting the usually well-kept hair was in need of a good wash. Pharah started singing in Arabic, all tension leaving them at once. Angela’s happy hums as she drifted off to sleep were good enough for Fareeha, falling asleep soon after.

* * *

The next morning, the two gangsters made sure to show just _how much_ they had missed each other.

And Angela was properly fed by Fareeha's vigilant care for the next two months.

"Open your mouth. This is not a negotiation."

"No."

_"Angie."_

Not that she particularly minded.

* * *

When you think of an anniversary, any one, you‘d imagine a candle lit dinner with you and your beloved. Or perhaps you watch a movie together. Maybe go to a Luna Park. Or even better, travel on a cruise with them for some time.

Not Angela.

Fareeha was enjoying her rare day off, as she was playing her favourite game again on Steam. Her VR equipment helped her feel she was actually walking through the familiar streets of Marrakesh. Maybe she should take Angela there for a visit sometim-

Metal Gear's infamous sound effect blasted in the room. Angelina must've send her a message.

_> Meet me by the long road at 1:00am tonight. Bring your car with you._

Pharah was touched by this. Alot.

_> Angie, baby. You remembered? <3 <3 <3_

_> Is this a date? Should I bring flowers and chocolates with me?_

_> Just bring your ass over there. Then we’ll talk._

_> How romantic. You sure know how to get a girl._

_> Smartass._

_> Correction: YOUR smartass. XXXXXXXOXOX_

Tossing her iPhone back on the bed, Pharah resumed playing the game, this time with more vigour than before.

* * *

Fareeha was the first to reach their meeting spot. Ten minutes ahead of schedule too.

Guess she can read that comic whilst she waits for Madame Tossaud to arrive-

' _You're here. Good_.'

Confusion entered Fareeha's mind, raising the earpiece's volume to the max.

"Since when do you show up this early? You must be VERY eager for our date, honey. I got everything, just-"

' _Date? I don't do that nonsense. You know how I am_.'

That she did. As Fareeha re-checked her teeth and used the minted breath spray, she softly beckoned the so called 'giant block of ice' to join her. The rock station was switched on, air conditioner as well.

"What are you waiting for? My car should be visible. Do you want me to open the door for you, princess~? Got no red carpet I'm afraid."

' _No need~ I've got my own._ '

"Your own-?"

At that moment, a strong motor sound came right beside her. Fareeha lowered her window to see-

Well. That was unexpected.

"You got _that_ out? For _me~_??"

The only car that she would ever trade her Lamborghini for was parked right next to her. Containing the ice princess herself. Mercy's showing off mode couldn't have been more obvious, as she leaned outside of her window. "Like what you see, Fareeha?"

Only Angela can drive her beloved DB11. Not even when Fareeha was in her first few weeks was she allowed to even look at the car, figures dream of driving it. Mercy always used a dull Mercedes when Fareeha had to play chauffeur during the initial assignments. That was the dullest part of being her bodyguard.

One day, she had spied Mercy driving her real car outside of one of her many clinics. Pharah raised her thumbs up in an attempt to hitchhike that beautiful sight.

It worked.

Too bad she was not in the passenger seat that day.

Fareeha was brought back to the present by a wisp of cigarette smoke curled affectionately towards her. Keeping her chin high up, she smiled.

"You'd think that you'd own a Porsche, considering your nationality."

The glare Mercy emitted towards that comment made Fareeha wonder if she went too far.

"If you really think I would own that overpriced computer mouse in disguise as my main ride, then you have **no** idea who I am, my little _maus_."

"Oi. Don't push it."

The smile returned. _Thank you Allah._

"And I'm Swiss, Fareeha, Swiss. Unlike most Germans, I've got taste in my cars."

"Ooouch. I got hurt in your place."

"But aren't you a Ferrari fan, my dear Bärchen?" Shared hobbies are always the best.

"Yeah, but it's still **Germany** you just curt stomped to pieces."

"Doesn't really matter. Mercedes and Volkswagen are not for people like us," Mercy lowered her eyelids, sweetening her voice. "But let's cut to the chase."

"Oh?" A little... giggle? Yes, a little giggle just came out of Mercy.

That made Fareeha gulp. What did she have in mind...?

"This is the long road. If we keep driving to our left, we will come back straight here," she pointed towards the black spot sign. "This is our finishing line."

Finishing...

 _Oh._ This got interesting.

"Angie... I gotta warn you. I don't go easy on my opponents on the road."

"I know that. That's why I'm challenging you."

"What's in it for me?"

"My car."

Fareeha's face became a commercial for collgate for a second.

"For yours."

This confused Fareeha's mood a little. "You mean, if I win, your car is mine...?" Angela nodded as sweetly as possible.

"The opposite is true, too. No take backs, Faree. Are you still up for it?"

_**Up for it?** _

Fareeha looked at that Aston Martin once again, almost biting her lip as she already started imagining driving it with Mercy by her side into the sunset. _Oh Fareeha. The sunset is so beautiful when I'm with you._ Her grip on the steering wheel intensified, nostrils flaring.

"You're fucking _on_ , honeybunny."

"Very well, pumpkin~"

She pointed straight into the sky. "When the bells ring 1 o'clock, it's time to start. Three laps, best out of three is victorious. No take backs. The winner can do whatever they want with their prize."

"And **no** dirty talk whilst driving."

She knew that Angela wasn't exactly a fair type of person.

Mercy immediately raised her hand on her chest, feigning being hurt. Complete with a pouty face. "Faree!! How scandalous of you. You don't trust me?"

"No. Not one bit." The brief annoyance on Angela's face made Fareeha chuckle a bit.

"There is a bridge ahead. That is the only area where we cannot overtake. Everywhere else is fair game."

She looked into her dashboard. "One minute. Any last words?"

Fareeha looked straight into Angela, pressing the gas pedal as hard as possible to impress.

"Your car is **mine**."

Angela responded just the same, both engine sounds being music to their ears.

"The car is not what **I** want, _schatz.._."

"What did you say?"

Mercy responded by staring into horizon, holding her earpiece as closely as possible.

' _Same_ **here** _, Fa-ree-ha- **li**.'_  

Both drivers raised their windows to concentrate.

Angela said those last words in such a way Fareeha's mind blanked out a bit. But made sure it wasn't obvious. After power playing through the sounds of their cars practically cat calling each other, the bells in the distance finally stroked one in the morning.

Jaws set, heart in place, shifting gears, both drift racers left as much dirt as possible behind them.

* * *

Both mobsters were 1-1 at that moment.

As they both reached the tunnel side by side, Fareeha used her breaks to surpass the competing DB11 using her rival's slipstream, taking advantage of the coming high speed stop being the bridge.

Mercy had to follow her own rules there.

_'Where do you think **you're** going? We're not finished yet...'_

"Going for the finish line. You'd better prepare that victory kiss!"

_'Wait for me~'_

"Hah, you wish-!"

Fareeha could taste victory as she was -finally- ahead of her boss.

She could see the last curve.

The last corner.

Victory was hers-!

Until Mercy started mewling **very** familiar sounds through the communicator.

Pharah’s mind went blank, not expecting the final assault. The volume she had set the Bluetooth earlier was a complete disadvantage. Angela overtook the black Lamborghini with ease, hitting the apex like a pro racer, effectively ending the race at that precise moment.

After making a 360 spin out of victory, Angela flickered her silver DB11’s lights to mock the loser. And boy was she a sore one, a trembling middle finger emerging from the Avantator’s black tinted windows.

Followed by a very angry Egyptian.

“You… you fucking cheater!” Fareeha yelled into the bluetooth as melodical laughter filled her own. "We had agreed! NO DIRTY TALK-!!"

_'But I didn't exactly talk...'_

**"ANGELA!!"**

The laughter increased, made Fareeha feel even more angry. ' _I can’t believe that worked. I should’ve done it sooner. Do I affect you that much, mein schaatz~?'_

“Fuck you!”

_'Language, my dear. No take backs, remember? Your car is mine now.'_

**“NOOOOOOOO!”**

There was a slight pause.

_'You sound like you like that car more than me.'_

“Well I do right now!”

' _ **Good**.'_  The ice-cold venom in her voice was dripping with ferocity, giving an impression it could melt molting lava. ' _That Lamb is still mine. Get out of it. Time to collect my prize.'_

But Pharah was having none of it.

“You’re not playing that game with me, Mercy. I demand a rematch-!”

_'There will be time for that. You’ve got a new objective now. **Get in my car.'**_

Eh? Is she serious? “Are you **fucking** serious!?”

_'You know me. I’m always serious.'_

Pharah sighed back into the driver’s seat, unwilling to let her beloved SuperVeloce go. This didn't go as planned at all...

“If it’s not the _-get my car back-_ assignment then I’m not interested.”

_'It is.'_

At that moment, she saw Mercy exited her DB11, looking at Pharah expectantly. She leaned on the passenger side of the supercar, fixing her appearance a little. Wondering how she ended up in this situation - ** _thanks, Ana -_** Fareeha reluctantly left her own car behind.

She was surprised to see that Angela stayed where she was.

“What about my car?”

“I’ve already called Lucio. He’ll come pick it up with these co-ordinates. Nothing will happen to it.”

Fareeha was almost tempted to ask of her car’s fate. Ah, fuck it.

“So what’s gonna happen? Are you going to place my SuperVeloce in display? Throw it away?”

“I will if you don’t stop talking about that blasted thing.”

Fareeha gasped, placing her hands on her heart dramatically. “You wouldn’t-?!”

Angela patted towards the passenger’s seat. “Well. Go on. Hop in already. This is an important one.”

Fareeha stayed put.

“Well come on. I won’t repeat myself.”

Fareeha still stayed put.

Mercy sighed, opening the passenger door herself. “Come with me, _please_. We don’t have all night. I need to debrief you before we go. Otherwise…”

Never had she seen Mercy as scary as she did now, not even during an interrogation session. “ **It’s junkyard time for your beloved Avantator.** ”

As Mercy calmly entered the driver’s seat, she was pleased that that was enough to make Pharah fast walk towards her. “Come inside. I’ll explain everything.”

Pharah entered her side of the Aston Martin, leaning to close the door behind her.

“That serious, huh?”

She missed Mercy’s stare change from serious to leering as she snapped the door shut.

“Tell me what I have to-“

“Activate cage in mode, communications off. Start Auto-Pilot for HQ.”

‘Auto-Pilot activated’

“Eh-?”

In that instant, all door locks shut down with a snap. The DB11’s seats lowered immediately, windows snapped shut as quickly.

“Wha-?”

And a _very_ excited Mercy jumped on Pharah.

Familiar rock music started playing in the background. Since when Mercy likes- is that Judas Priest~~??

It took precisely three seconds for Fareeha to realise what the race was really all about.

_“Fuck me, Amari~”_

“Fuck-!”

Turns out, when Angela talked about collecting her prize, the Avantator was not what she meant.

* * *

Angela was on her way back to base, humming one of her favourite rock tunes.

_'Stop humming that. You're too far away from me.'_

Classical music was playing around the clear speakers, calming her senses.

There was nothing to worry about.

"Don't you mean Phar-away, darling?"

A low pitched growl was emitted from the other side of the call, appeasing all nerves the crime boss didn't know she had within. Fareeha was by the city mall, waiting for the ordered equipment to arrive to destination, as she communicated through their shared earpiece.

_'So... you’re telling me being here is **not** punishment for that time. You know, when I went missing for weeks? You thought I was dead? Missed me quite a lot~?'_

Despite her (admittingly) cute whining, Mercy's mood stayed a joyful one. This was one of the good days.

"Sometimes I **do** wonder if you want me to punish you for that, Faree. Always bringing it up somehow in many situations. Are you a masochist and trying to tell me that slowly?"

_'Fuck no I’m not.'_

“I wouldn’t mind, actually. You have great qualities and I accept them all.”

_'How sweet of you.'_

Both gangsters laughed a little, as Mercy reached the compound. As she started removing her precious driving gloves to place back into their compartment, Angela started reversing into her area. “I told you many times. This is necessary. And I only trust you with my cargo. No one else.”

_'There’s at least another hour of waiting though.'_

Pharah let out another dramatic sigh. ' _Why do you do this to me~?'_

“I didn’t know you could be such a whiner, Faree. I’m always learning something new about you everyday.”

She could hear Pharah drum impatiently on her steering wheel. _'You know…'_

“Yes, Fareeha?”, as her boss parked the Aston Martin vehicle as neatly as possible.

_'I’m sick of this mall. How about a ride?'_

Angela shook her head towards an invisible Pharah. “You **do** care about that car more than me.”

_'Who’s talking about my car?'_

The grip on the DB11’s steering wheel couldn’t have gotten any tighter. As the Angel of Death quickly shifted gear and sped urgently towards her lover, the poor asphalt around the beautiful Aston Martin's wheels had seen better days. Hmm. How odd.

For that memory to show up right now...

* * *

Getting sponsorship for a new hospital shouldn't be this hard.

Dr Angela Ziegler wondered what possessed her to host this event out of charity. At the front.

The truth was she needed the funds.

And to get rid of the trash.

An auction was being made in the background for only the richest persons to attend to. She had to invite everyone from the underworld worth knowing their names. Ana Amari, the strongest rival she's got on the market, was present in auction too. She was currently talking to the auctioneer, discussing about an emerald dagger that was on display.

Strange.

She never recalled Ana being that tall. Or having her built figure being that... thick. Ana's hair was always well kept, but tonight it was rather different. It was... nice.

A flair of disgust towards herself filled the doctor up completely. Has she drank too much tonight?

Why was she checking out _Ana Amari_ of all-

The person in question turned around. 

It was a miracle the champagne flute in her hand didn't snap into two in that instant.

Talk about a bullet, straight from the stranger's gun to her heart.

The tall, dark and Egyptian mobster nodded towards her in respect as the auction started, alienating her a little bit. But just a little. Maybe hosting this event wasn't a waste of time after all. Angela placed her empty glass on the waiter's tray, picking up a new glass of Merlot instead.

So...  _that_  was Ana's daughter. Must've shown up in her mother's place. She needed to see how she was called on the guest list...

Hmm. Ana Amari was here. But there wasn't another Amari on the list...

How frustrating. 

She _did_ show up instead of her mother. As she wasn't on the list, that technically made her an uninvited guest.

And that won't do, won't it?

After finishing her Merlot, Angela grabbed two new champagne flutes from a passing attendant, patiently waiting for the auction to end.

The Angel of Death was never one for romance. 

Until that night.

"Hello."

_Oh come and rock me, Amadeus._

* * *

A mobile phone started ringing in the now busy Lamborghini. A hand reached to pick it up.

"Urrrgh, boss?"

"Mm?"

"The equipment has arrived."

"Mm."

"We leave it up to Lucio this time?"

"Mm."

"Okay. You're the boss, _Ziegler_."

"Mm-mm~"

The poor phone was chucked away like a rag doll, eager laughter and moans ensued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this one. I wanted to challenge myself, see if I can write a race scene without being too flowery about it. There will be a torture scene later (boy, that's a weird one to type down) but it will be explored in a new piece, this chapter was way too long as it was. So sorry about that ^^''
> 
> The game Pharah was playing was Hitman: 2016. Specifically the Marrakesh episode. Eat it, FF13 Saga and your corridors.
> 
> Overwatch belongs to Blizzard Entertainment, Gangster AU mainly inspired by the amazing SuperRisu, Logos and O.K. trio. All critiques accepted in cash, cheques and card payments. Cheerio~
> 
> EDIT: You can all pretend that Fareeha was wearing the dress from the new comic in the first meeting scene. GO AHEAD~


	3. Ambush - No Fury - Barbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pharah gets kidnapped by one of Ana's rivals, Mercy and Mei can do nothing but watch.

It was a quiet, Parisian night.

Black Sabbath’s Heart like a Wheel starts playing in a very familiar Lamborghini. Of course Fareeha had to answer the boss immediately.

**You say you don't love me**

**You say you don't care-**

**- _accept_ -**

"'ello pumpkin~”

Silence.

“Honey?”

Still silence.

“Babe? Darling? Sugar? Sweetie? Angel?”

Was it silent treatment day today and didn’t get the memo? Not that Pharah gives up that easily.

“Boss? Amar? Qalbi? Qalb ta' Qalbi? My dear? Honey Buns? Dear _est_? …Angie?”

Now Fareeha was despairing a little.

“Sugarcakes? Bar-Barchi-cen? Sweetcheeks? Peach cake? Sweetheart? Spoonfest? Bon Bon? Habibiti? Bae? My boo?”

Okay, _this_  will get a response.

“Ziggy Bomb-?”

' _Stop it._ '

“A **ha**! I knew you were listening, my princess-“

' _Stop **that** '._

“Stop what?”

' _That. Those words. **All of them**._ '

Red light. Fareeha braked her car, as the others behind followed suit.

“What’s wrong, angel? You never complained before.”

' _I never had to. When those words were said privately_.'

Was that the issue?

“Is this because I called you cutie pie in front of Zarya?”

…

“That’s it, right?”

' _Yes._ '

Green light. Soon she'll be home.

“But I can’t help it. You  _are_ a cutie pie.”

' _Fareeha-_!'

“You did call me, what was- ah yes, your ‘cuddle scarab’ in front of madame Chinese leader. That was far more embarrassing.”

 _Shoo, go away._  Fareeha happily recalled.  ** _My_** _cuddle scarab, not yours_. The fact that she  _hissed_  at Mei made the memory more endearing.

A red Chevrolet caught her attention in the front mirror. Fareeha kept an eye on it for at least a minute now.

' _It was one time, and I was smashed. **You**  were anything but._'

“Still no excuse from where I’m looking.”

A deep sigh was heard from the other side. She just had to laugh her ass off. ' _When are you coming back to base, Faree_?'

A few more cars followed the red one. Fareeha changed course, hoping she was just being paranoid.

“Soon, pretty soon. Are you available tonight?"

' _Fareeha, you know that's impossible as long as we're in Paris._ '

Pharah was a patient woman. But after spending a month in France doing nothing but work, even she had her limits.

"But it's the city of love! We were supposed to go to the Louvre together at some point. You promised me. Or the Eiffel Tower! Hell, I'd eat one of those slimy frog legs too if it meant spending time with you. But not the snails. I love you, but snails are too adorable to eat."

Another sigh, this time a little deeper.

' _Faree, we're here for business, not pleasure. I told you this. Don't make things harder than they already are. I'll think of something._ '

Point taken. "So... meet you as usual? Near the speakeasy?"

Some of the black cars following her before returned in sight.

' _Yes. Zarya will be there too. We need to escort Don Falsone tonight to a safer location. He's done Zarya a big favour, and she needs our help._ '

"What's in it for us?"

A white van stayed close to Fareeha, blocking her view from all mirrors. Now it's no longer a case of paranoia. Pharah prepared herself.

' _A very good contact for money laundering purposes._ '

Nothing.

Maybe she was being just paranoid.

"Sweet. Miss you already."

The red car showed up, as it was hidden behind the white van, suddenly dashing into the SuperVeloce's trunk.

' _I don't-_ '

A loud swerving noise was heard through the private communicator.

' _Fareeha_?' The lighter mood in Mercy's voice vanishing instantly. ' _I swear if this is a joke-_ '

" **FUCK!**  ANGELA! I'M BEING AMBUSHED! ABORT EVERYTHING WITH DON FALSONE,  **WARN ZARYA**! IT WAS A TRAP-!!"

Mercy was not a person who reacted slowly, directly switching on the inter communicator for her foot soldiers to listen.

"Track Pharah! We need to know her exact location, and who is following her right NOW!"

"Yes boss!"

"And bring me Mei on Skype, I need to contact her now!"

"Affirmative boss!"

* * *

Angela immediately walked into the command room, all servants saluting their boss.

**-acquiring location: PHARAH-**

In case there was a spy amongst them, Mercy decided to speak in Pharah tongue until her location was secured.

"O'Malley, tell me how many bees are buzzing exactly and evade them at once!"

' _I'm **trying,**  Duchess, but these fuckers are everywhere! Shit, they blocked the bridge!_'

**-location acquired-**

Doctor Ziegler held onto the earpiece as if her life depended on it. After scanning all possible escape routes with Lucio, she gave Pharah the following instructions. "Pharah, we're seeing your location, there's another tunnel directly to your right, satellite images show no one is there!"

Five in the back, four evaded. None in the safe area. Angela had to be sure before telling her when to take the route.

Three following, one leading.

"Now!" 

"Take the tunnel now!"

' _Hold that thought--_!'

Pharah braked instantly to make a 270 turn, making most attackers crash into the blockade that was set up before. 

The Lamborghini drove straight to the right, entering the tunnel. Several new cars that were strategically hidden behind billboards cropped up in the distance. ' _Fuckers are still chasing me-_!' as she skilfully evaded normal drivers who were on the road.

Unfortunately for her, some of her chasers were just as good.

As she kept evading more bystanders and kept on being chased, a police car started following the black super car.

Fareeha nudged the white car as sharply as possible, making it skid and lose control of its speed.

This helped Pharah evade all of the ambushers.

Except one.

As they both exited the tunnel, Fareeha looked immediately into the left mirror.

The red car was still chasing her. 

As they entered the Champs-Élysées road, Pharah used the bystanders as an advantage to gain as much ground as possible.

"Use the metro tunnel! You should be able to evade them from there! 50 meters from your location!"

' _Gotcha!_ '

Unfortunately, Fareeha's chasers forecasted an escape attempt like this.

As Pharah drove to enter the Metro Tunnel, an empty bus suddenly dashed forward to block the path.

**"FUCK-!!"**

As Fareeha attempted to reverse back, the red Chevi blocked her another path by driving straight into the nuzzle of the Lamb, effectively sandwiching the car between them.

Not that Pharah was out of the game yet, as she pressed the red button to activate her own modifications on the black supercar.

As two machine guns exited the sides of the car automatically, she pressed herself against the now lowered seats as much as possible. This helped her get under the outside of the car as quickly as possible as it flipped the driver seat for the modified engine. The second it flipped, taking advantage of the distracted ambushers, she lunged for the pavement, making a run for the Metro as fast as possible.

"Shit! She's getting away! Stop her!!"

'Go, go, **go!** Grab the first train and **go!!** '

Fareeha was almost at the entrance-

**-!-**

Shit! What was--

A dart?

In her arm-?

Damn.

As she fell down the stairs, one thought came to mind.

She let Mercy down.

* * *

 

Fareeha got surrounded.

 

* * *

- **PHARAH DOWN-**

All Mercy could do was stare at the now empty view screen.

* * *

Back in the Triad's temporary base, Mei sat down on her chair, all strength evading her.

**-BIG BUN DOWN-**

"...Mercy?"

 It took a few seconds for Angela to click on the Skype button.

"...They took Zarya too."

* * *

Nothing betrayed what Mercy was feeling at that moment. Not even her body language.

Except her voice.

"Saleh. Hassan. Tariq. Menna. Nisa."

All soldiers stood up from position.

"Lucio."

"Yes boss?"

"You. Stay behind. Take care of the base."

"Roger," as he returned to his seat.

Angela seemed completely calm. But her eyes betrayed her next move. She looked like a demon possessed. "Mei." The Chinese boss looked up to Mercy, white rage evident in her own eyes. "Come to my HQ. Bring your elite. We will get these bastards for what they've done."

Mercy turned to her squadron, blinking only once. "You are my best soldiers. Your success represents me. Your failure is your own. **You** represent **me**. You will tear **all** fuckers who oppose me apart on my command and _leave nothing_. _You will not let me down._ **My servants never die**." 

Mei said something similar in Mandarin to her own henchmen, as she charged her ice gun with such precision she didn't need to look at what she was doing. All of the foot and elite soldiers swore their loyalty to their own leaders.

**"Yes boss!"**

* * *

It was dark. Everything smelled funny. Fareeha felt pieces of cloth around her face, itchy and clogging her surroundings entirely. Turns out there was a potato bag over her head. After a henchman removed it, dim lights flooded Fareeha's sight.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!"

The Roadhog did the same with the person- there was someone?- behind her.

"Rise and shi- ahh, bear!!!"

The thug tried to replace the bag back on the... animal? But all he got was a fresh bite and a terrifying snarl.

"Fuck, it bit me!! It bit my aaarm!"

Shit. First, she got kidnapped, then she was literally attached to a bear? What else will torturers inven-

"Pharah? Is that jou?"

Fuck was she glad to hear THAT voice.

"Zarya? They got you too?"

That helped her regain her senses. She was locked down on a chair. Straps and all, almost choking her neck. Fareeha tried moving, but no dice.

"I tried that for at least 10 minutes before jou voke up. It's useless. Vhoever made these straps is really good."

The pink haired bruiser struggled to be free despite her words. Pharah followed suit.

"Shit. I don't like this. These chairs look like-"

* * *

A heavy door opened as slowly as possible.

"Ahhhh, aren't you two fit little birds."

* * *

Fareeha would recognise that voice anywhere. "Junkrat."

"You're awake, finally. Not exactly your mam are ya, ya little sook."

Both gangsters put extra effort into releasing themselves from their binds. The Australian bomb expert just laughed harder.

"Why are ya doing that? I've got a Barbie planned for all of us! And you're my special guests!" He snapped his fingers.

One of his henchmen punched Zarya square in the jaw. "Ah, that felt good to watch. But enough distractions!"

He brought a mobile phone out-

Fareehashook down the isolated chamber in an absolute instant. **"Get that back-!!"**

"Easy now! I won't do anything to yer rooting gal. All I what is to talk to her."

He searched through the phone, unlocking it easily. "Ah, ya got Skype? That makes things easier."

He snapped his fingers again.

The henchmen showered Zarya and Pharah with stone cold water, as they started stuffing their mouths with cloth in a few seconds. "Gotta prepare the stage darlings. Have a girl to impress."

"She vas never jours to impress."

Another punch, this time harder.

* * *

As Mei was given a cup containing Jin Suo Chi tea out of courtesy, Mercy started devising a plan with her elite soldiers. 

Three hours have passed since the ambush happened. Three, long, agonisingly slow hours.

"If they're still alive, they'll have to phone us somehow. Either you or me. Try to make a fucking ransom out of Pharah and Zarya."

Mei had to stay strong in front of her own squadron. But she had to ask the question.

"What if they're not?"

Mercy stayed silent.

Then, her Skype started beeping. Both on her mobile and on the big screen.

It was Pharah. But Mercy was no fool. She went directly into the front line of the screen.

"Track this call the second I accept it. Stay calm, betray no emotion. We need as much information as possible."

The Chinese mobster looked at the crime boss. She could see right through Mercy's words. They were said more for her and Mei than their henchmen. After taking a deep breath and with Mei's nod givng her courage, Mercy clicked  **-ACCEPT-**  on the view monitor.

* * *

A familiar bubble noise echoed in the command room.

' _Aaaaaah. Hello thar. I've heard rumours about you, but believe me, your bad rep precedes you. You're even prettier than I imagined._ '

"Cut the crap. We both know why you're online. Tell us what you want."

' _Ooooh, doesn't waste time, does she? I like that in my wome-_ '

It was then he noticed Mei was in the same room.

' _MEEEEEEEEEI, my **darling** little ice cube. It has been awhile has it-?_'

"Fuck off, Junkrat."

_'Oiii, Oiii! That is unexpected of you~ What did Catholic school teach ya? Always be polite to your neighbours~'_

"..."

' _Oh that's right! You're not Catholic! Silly me~~_ '

"You know him."

Mei nodded towards Mercy. "He is a business rival of mine. He took a liking for me when I was green. But I never wanted him."

' _I'm still here, you know that? You're so cold hearted **I LOVE IT**._ '

"He is Ana Amari's most direct rival too in terms of weapons business. But she practically turned his empire into a minuscule. ant. graveyard."

Junkrat looked more turned on than insulted by Mei's report. Mercy looked away out of disgust.

' _Speaaaking of Madame Mascara, I've got someone over here that **might** catch your attention. Specifically_ ,' he paused, looking annoyed. ' _ **Two** guests._' Sounds of leather and muted protests could be heard in the background. Both crime bosses instantly looked upwards, betraying no emotion. ' _Aaaah, caught yer attention now, have I? Well, well, well. Now I've got some news to tell you._ ' Grabbing the mobile phone, he pointed towards the two gangsters who were tied up by the electric chairs.

Both had their mouths stuffed.

"Zarya-!" Mei's poker face crumbled the second she saw the pink haired tank tied up as savagely as she was. Mercy kept looking as coldy as before.

' _Now, listen carefully: the good news is that yer slab and ripper are **a** -okay. The baaaad newss is..._'

**-CLICK-**

Sparks and electricity filled the room completely as the two bound women screamed as loudly as they could, unbelievable pain filled their system uncontrollably. The command room was filled with nothing but their screams, the colours blue and white flickering all over the place.

Mei covered her mouth in shock, a henchman holding her to prevent their beloved mob boss from collapsing.

Mercy looked straight on, this time with a trace of emotion on her face. She may be the Angel of Death, but she was not cold blooded.

Especially when a certain Amari was involved.

**-CLICK-**

' _Well cooked, just how I like it!!!'_

The shock was so strong, it knocked the silencing cloth out of the imprisoned mobsters. Both lunged forward out of instinct, reeling in pain. The neck strap around them caused even more agony than the shock itself. ' _Sorry lasses, I got a little carried away. Well, sorry to you, Amari Jr. I've got no words to say to the horrific_ beast  _behind you._ '

Mei may be crying, but there was a reason why she was the leader of all crime networks in China. The ice gun she carried reflected her rage perfectly.

"You... you  **sick** , disgusting creature-!"

' _MMm, yes, talk dirty to me Mei! Right in front of yer..._ Tomba  _here too!_ '

"J-jou von't get avay v-vith this-!"

Another punch. _'I 'otta cut your tongue off for that-!!'_

"Alexi!" You hurt Zarya, you hurt Mei. Her henchmen boiled with rage alongside their leader. "Stop! **No more**!"

' _Ahahahahaa, this is so much fun! In fact-_ '

Junkrat punched Fareeha straight into her stomach. "Uuurgh-!"

' _What? You thought I forgot ya? No chance, my deary. You're gonna pay for every little thing yer mama caused me! I'll swear it! AHAH **HAA** -_'

"Stay away from them."

That stopped Junkrat on his tracks. ' _Ohhh, the ice queen finally_ speaketh _. Tell ya what..._ ' He held the mobile phone right into his perspective, leering towards the bound Egyptian as he held her face as savagely as he could. ' _I know absolutely_ everything _. About yer **attachment** to this gal. Then again, this mark alone doesn't exactly make it a secret._' Junkrat commanded a henchman to hold the mobile phone for him.

He opened his ring, leaving a burn mark on Fareeha's cheek. He pushed his fist into the cheekbone as hard as possible. ' _Gave her one hell of a pash! Now she's got my mark! What-cha gonna do about it? EHEHEHA **HAAHAHAA** -_'

The nails digging into the black fox fur hid all the fury Mercy was feeling for the deranged criminal at that very moment.

"You have no idea what you are doing."

' _OOOOH believe me, I know **exactly** what I am doing. I'll promise, scout's honour, I'll keep them alive until the timer's out. But don't take _too _looong~'_

His blusterous laughter took over the entire room.

' _If you don't bring me 10 million euros in cash in the next three hours at these co-ordinates... well._ '

His grin was the stuff of nightmares.

 _' **I won't be able to keep my hands to myself**_.'

The co-ordinates showed instantly on the screen.

' _Oh, do come pay me a visit Mei. I'll be very disappointed if you didn't. Especially Zarya over here! HEHEHHAHA **HAHAHAAHA** -!_'

The bubble noise returned.

It was Mercy's turn to sink into the chair behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. Chapter 3 had to be split into two (again) here's the first part. Sorry guys. ^^''
> 
> Ambush scene largely inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7MUt5zvV83c&list=PLjpNA1ed0KpUkW9BdxBCemsexf2ILTCpM&index=3
> 
> Question: Why does Mei have a temp base in Paris, but not Zarya? Answer: She was on vacation, giving her gf company. :(
> 
> Mercy's squadron role call is a tribute to Bonbonbourbon's fantastic story "The Doctor and the Guard" having completed it's first part. If you haven't read it, what are you waiting for? Go nao, it is a-MAZ-ing. :-D
> 
> EDIT: Finally fixed the notes problem, woot!
> 
> EDIT 2: Barbie is slang for BBQ in Australian English.


	4. Cross - Lecture - Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whislt Junkrat prepares to continue his torture, Zarya enters her subconscious to recall when she met Mei for the first time.

The leader of the Roadhogs couldn't stop laughing.

"I couldn't have been more picture perfect!! Say, how's it going ladies?"

No response.

"Out cold already? Maaaaaaan, I still got it. Say," he pointed towards one of his many henchmen. "Make your boss happy, will ya?"

Said henchman punched an unconscious Zarya square in the face.

_"Thank you~"_

Junkrat approached an unconscious Fareeha, who's cheek still reeked of the burn mark he forcefully placed earlier. "You'd think pretty face over here would've lasted longer than Ursula behind her. Ana Amari, she is not." What would be considered a smile in Hell showed on Junkrat's face.

"And that is a _verrrrry_ good thing."

He made a quick scan of his guards. The one with the bite wound caught his attention instantly. "You. Guard the front door. Make sure no one goes in or goes out until I say so. If you disobey me," he patted on the Roadhog's shoulder. "All what would be left of you will be placed into a _tiny_ matchbox for yer funeral. Are we clear?"

The Roadhog gulped, as he clutched his injured arm. He had wished to bandage it, but now he'll have to grit his teeth. "Crystal, boss."

"Perfect! Glad to hear we're on the same page."

As Junkrat patted on his henchman's arm savagely, he looked back his hostages.

"I'll be back in an hour. Dose them again in the next 30 minutes. I want them to become phobic of water. So then, when their bodies remember the pain..." All of Junkrat's hooligans followed him except for one, preparing to switch on the electroconvulsive machine.

"They will **always** remember **me**."

The rusted door slammed shut behind him, as Junkrat's laughter echoed in now quiet torture room.

* * *

Zarya blinked.

Vasn't she in some sort of ill kept basement being tortured by Junkrat, of all fucking people?

Hov vas she back here? To her sihteenth birthday party?

She knev she vas sihteen again because her father, the former leader of the Russian mafia, vas still alive beside her.

The strippers in the background vere hard to miss.

"My son."

Zarya could almost cry hearing that voice again. "I'm jour daughter, papa."

"My _beloved_ son. Jou're a grovn adult nov. Relah, have some fun. Ve're finally together again, even for a short vhile."

Zarya couldn't help but chuckle. There she vas, her father's third ehperiment in having a son in one his daughters. She vas the joungest amongst tvelve sisters. Her father loved their mothers very dearly (Zarya herself came from the third marriage) but no matter hov hard he tried, God could only provide daughters for him.

So he decided to raise a son himself. Vhy didn't he just adopt one?

"Because only a Zarjanova can rule the undervorld of Mother Russia."

Zarya recalled that statement complete vith her father's eccentric movements to perfection.

His first attempt, Anastasia, ran avay vith the local baker vhen she came of age. She only remained in contact vith Zarya.

The second attempt, Natasha... vas not so lucky.

The third one hovever... vas a major success.

"Zarya. Jou need to recoup jour energy. Do not let that deranged monster vin against jou."

"I knov, Dada. But he can bring Mei into danger. And my comrade, vho's tied right neht to me."

"She can handle herself, my son. The both of them can. And jou knov it. That's vhy **jou** are here."

Zarya looked at her deceased father for much needed advice.

"Jou descend directly from Princess Olga, my son. That rugrat has got nothing on jou. Make him pay for everything that he's done. Othervise..." His stare could've melted perfect ice. "Jou are no son of mine."

Zarya hugged her parent as hard as she could. "I missed jou, papa."

"Me too, my dear child."

Aleksandra couldn't help but look around. "Vhy here though, of all places? Ve could've meet after the initiation..."

"Nonsense. This is the perfect meeting spot. Vhy, this is vhere I met jour mother!!"

Zarya's gaping ehpression said a thousand vords.

Her father viped his glasses carefully. "I'm sorry. That came out vrong. Let me ehplain."

* * *

Zarya blinked again.

This time, she felt really cold and hungry. It took her avhile to recognise vhere she vas, considering the place vas visited only once.

She vas back near the summit of the Kljuchevskoi mountain. All Russian Godfathers had to go to this initiation in order to become the official leader of the local mafia. Her father, grandfather and all former leaders before her completed this trail vith even less tools at their disposal. Zarya had to reach the summit, collect three stones from the cooled dovn lava stream found vithin the mountain, and bring a bear corpse or skin back home. In that order. She had done almost everything at this point. Hell, the beast vas already slain.

Unfortunately, it had sapped all energy out of the future mafia leader. As it fell dovn to its death, Aleks had collapsed out of ehhaustion.

Vhich is vhy she vas surprised to find herself vrapped up in a cosy coat, beside a bonfire that lit the cavern up vith both varmth and security.

Said bear vas completely skinned and its meat vas currently roasting above the fire. The smell vas filling as it vas.

"Ah, you're awake!" Vait, there vas someone? Zarya got up from her resting spot, looking for the intruder.

Said intruder vas hacking avay at an ice vall vith a pickahe, seemingly trying to dislodge...

...Vas that a _Sabre Tooth Cat??_

Trapped in _ice?_ That vas _so cool_.

But not as cool as the actual... archaeologist? Looks like one. Even from the back...

"Ahem. Mister?"

Zarya looked up. Her saviour turned around, fixing the glasses that slipped down her nose.

"Hello! I don't think we've introduced ourselves. My name is Ling Xiaoju. I am a researcher representing Peking University."

Zarya couldn't help but vant the joung lady to talk more about herself.

It's not everyday jou meet a voman that knovs hov to skin a bear vith such _perfection_.

"And you are...?" Vhoops.

"Hmm... hov can I say this... I am..."

"Oh, oh! Let me try to guess, mister~"

The lecturer circled around the Russian heir like she vas about to drop some rapping beats.

The more she looked at her, the more Zarya felt smitten. She looked intelligent. Smart. Very nice-

"I know! You are an Olympian!"

Close. "No. I am a veight lifter, but it's more as a hobby."

"Hm..."

Madame Xiao placed her hand on her chin, thinking carefully. Aleks vas enjoying ever second of it.

"A bodyguard?"

Shakes head. "I protect, yes. But I am not hired to protect or fight just one person. I collect as well."

In more vays than one.

Xiao suddenly snapped her fingers triumphantly. "I know! You're a bouncer!"

Vhy not. "Vell. Jou got me."

Xiao started bouncing around as if she won the lottery. The simple fact that she was happy with something so _little_...

Yep. Zarya vas gone, gone... _gone_.

"Yes! I knew it! That tattoo made it obvious~"

Tatto-

Zarya looked at the cross mark on her left shoulder. It vas missing the bear teeth and three stones she had to collect in order to complete it. Vell. She supposed it looked cool to the lady in front of her.

"It looks like Saint Olga's cross too. Very unique tattoo..."

For a moment, Xiao looked a bit... different. Like she could recognise the mark.

No. Can't be. Must've been the fire's reflection.

Zarya felt like shoving off. She flehed the muscles around the tattoo in order to impress the girl.

It vorked. "Wow! So strong~"

Vas that a blush? Zarya couldn't help but grin.

Even though the lady in jauestion had the impression she vas a guy. Zarya shrugged that off for the time being.

"I haven't introduced myself. My name is..."

Hmm. Vhat IS her name? She tried a very manly name. "Mah. Mahimilian Alehander Romanov."

The pickahe stopped.

The archaeologist smiled at the pink haired bruiser, twirling her hair a little. "I... have to ask you something, Mister _Max_ Romanov."

"Yes?"

"Well... this is going to sound like it came out of the left field but..."

Zarya folded her arms, trying to impress the Chinese lady a little more. "Hmm?"

"Okay... don't laugh but... errrr..."

Aleks leaned towards the blushing lady _veeery_ slowly. "Go on. I don't bite. I assure jou."

The specs went up again, leaning upwards, surprising the Russian mobster, making Zarya walk a step backwards.

"Are you... seeing someone?"

Ba-Bump.

"...No."

The Chinese lady could've ehploded into firevorks at that moment. Same thing for Zarya. The professor timidly kissed the Russian princess on one side of her cheeks. "That's great! You're so **cute** , Mr Romanov. I gotta admit. I've _always_ had a thing for tattooed boys like yourself." Xiao fluttered her eyes a little bit, holding Zarya a bit closer.

And like that, the kite that vas in the sky flev in the distance.

Oh vell. It vas nice vhile it lasted.

"I'm a voman, Profs."

Silence.

"Oh."

"But..." Zarya had never felt nervous in her life. Hell, needs she remind you,  _she killed a bear a few hours ago_.

With her _bear_ hands.

"Ve could still be friends...?"

The Chinese move avay a little, tilting her head as though she vas considering the offer.

"No."

Zarya, the future Russian godfather of all Mother Land, lowered her head in defeat. "I see."

Then Xiao vrapped her arms around Aleks and kissed the same cheek again. "It doesn't really matter. Nobody's perfect~"

Zarya never felt has happy as she did at that precise moment.

Is this vas love is?

They enjoyed the silence a little bit. Xiao asked another question.

"You haven't told me your name yet then... madame?"

The vay she carelessly fihed her glasses made Aleks vant to tease her a little. But she kept a little comment to herself.

"Nadia. Nadia... Comăneci."

"Like the legendary gymnast? From Munich 1976?"

Shit. She knovs her history. "Perhaps my parents named me after her."

They both laughed, enjoying the fire betveen them stoke very peacefully.

Vhilst bonding over a vell cooked bear.

* * *

Later that evening, Zarya got her three items for the initiation to be complete.

Reach the summit? Hell, she even had a selfie of it.

Bear skin? **Super** check.

Three lava stones? All hand picked by the lovely Miss Xiaoju.

Vhen Zarya descended from the mountain, she vas the apprentice no more.

* * *

Zarya had tvo important dates that night.

The first one vas: she had the luhury of finally meeting the mysterious Chinese mafia leader face to face, having replaced the legendary Bamboo Master a fev years before. Not that the outside vorld knev that. As far as _they_ vere concerned, that geezer vas still very alive and active.

Aleks much preferred the vork of the current leader. He or she removed the human trafficking part of the Bamboo Master's main activites by focusing on the drug trafficking and gambling parts, cutting off the prostitution market from the Triad business entirely and fused all separated mafia families into one big Empire. All by themselves. Vithout shredding a single drop of blood.

Vhat a leader. 

Not even Soviet Russia vas _that_ precise. Zarya vas reminded of Garibaldi's historic march.

And even _that_ contained some bloodshed.

The current boss also had an unorthodoh method vith her henchmen.

They (there vere more vomen than men, she noted) had the chance of a second life through their nev boss.

Former prostitutes or concubines. Abandoned orphans of all ages. Unvanted second daughters. Street urchins society should nuture, picked up unbiasedly from the streets. All raised by their nev leader as one, big family.
    
    
      **一个力量一支军队一个家庭.**
    

**One strength. One army. One family.**

That was the new leader's motto.

No vonder she heard nothing but good things about the nev leader. The Bamboo Master picked the right successor alright.

The second (and most) important date vas the lecture her beloved vas going to provide on philosophy and the importance of taking care of global varming. Zarya chuckled. She knev Xiao had some jokes aimed at the current President of America's stance during the second part that vill kill the audience the second they heard them.

After all, she vas her test audience the previous night on Skype.

Her JotaPhone buzzed at that very moment. Zarya knev vho it vas.

_> You'll be there for my lecture tonight, right?_

_> ♪♫♪♫ <3_

_> Love you too, Nadia~_

It's been only three months since they met. Zarya didn't vant to rush anything betveen them. After all, it vas the first time Xiao vas ever dating a voman.

It didn't matter. The professor told her she knev Aleks vas the one the second she found her unconscious neht the dead bear's body.

_"If it's you, then it's okay, my big bun~"_

Dammit. Zarya vas missing her already.

But at the same time... she took a deep breath.

Tonight vas the night. She'll have to tell Xiao vho she really vas. She cannot hide behind the identity of Nadia Comăneci forever. One trip to Vikipedia can ehpose her alias completely. It vas too much of a coincidence. Plus, although she didn't vant to drag the lecturer into her vorld... she had the right to know.

After all, the cross on her shoulder vas pretty hard to miss.

* * *

As she entered the (admittingly beautiful) casino, Zarya reached the the fifth floor only VIP people can access to. She entered the main office vhen instructed.

Vhen she finally entered the room, Aleks notices three things.

One. There vas the Sabre Tooth figurine encased in a beautiful setting of ice and decoration. Perhaps it somehov reached this office through a third party. The Russian boss needed to ask if Xiao profited a little from that. She'll be _very_ disappointed if the University was the only one to gain much needed funds from that fossil.

Tvo. The scent of the room vas pretty unijaue. Jasmine and Vanilla. Just like her girlfriend's favourite perfume.

Three. There vas a **VERY** familiar photo on the Chinese supreme ruler's desk.

Mainly, **Xiao** and **she** goofing around in a Luna Park like a bunch of silly kids just the veek before.

_How vas dat-?_

Then, the chair turned.

Zarya could only gape. If this vas a cartoon, the jav vould've reached the floor instantly.

_**"JOU-?!"** _

The Chinese leader let out a girly laugh vhilst fihing her glasses. She seemed nervous.

"Guilty as charged, Nadia. Or. Should I call you... Zarya?"

Mei made a 'ta-da' motion. Only the Sabre Cat could respond to that.

"...I can explain everything."

* * *

That she did, in extra detail.

Ling Xiaoju really did exist. She was a respected Tsinghua University professor and archaeologist in all of China, known all over the world.

Mei Ling Zhou did exist as well. But in the shadows.

No one outside of the mobster world knew who she really was unless she **wanted** them to know.

That's why she and Mercy were close allies.

Mercy?

"Jou mean the Angel of Death?"

She nodded. Mei trusted her alot, despite Mercy not originating from the mafia world itself. Mei was technically her first ally. Zarya had to laugh a little at the comparison.

The Frozen Phoenix seemed to be nothing but a figure wanting to be cherished and loved.

The Angel of Death wanted nothing but respect and precision.

They couldn't have been more different than night and day.

They had met as experts in their own fields a few times before Mercy... infamously became the Shimada brothers' assistant.

Mei, as Xiao, was still the Bamboo Master's unannounced apprentice at the time.

Because her own head quarters was _the University itself._

After all, who provided the funds?

And you know what they say. Vhere was a criminal well hidden? Vhen hidden in _plain sight_.

As for the whole dating thing...

Zarya had to look back towards the Sabre Tooth stuffing in order to hide her cheeks matching with the pink hair dye, folding her arms with a loud huff. 

 **She vas also saying the truth.** Zarya _really_ vas her first girlfriend. And her one and only, after bonding together in the cavern. Vhich she vas there purely out of a hobby of hers ever since she vas a child. Hell, she honestly thought she vas a he the first time they have met. But she knev **EHACTLY** vho she vas the second she sav the incomplete Russian Godfather tattoo.

This admission made Zarya turn a little, happiness shining through a tiny bit.

But Zarya's father had spread the rumour **she** vas a **he** , _so_... Mei sighed, but Zarya placed a light kiss on her cheek.

She can't be blamed in that regard.

One of her many hobbies vas mountain climbing. The main one vas precious mineral collecting. After all, Mei vas the main profiteer from the Ukrainian amber market. Nothing that is sold or bought in that market escapes her sight. Her control over the amber vas already established betveen Zarya's father and Mei's mentor.

Getting a little serious, Mei casually mentioned that chip in the Russian market vas going to stay in her hands. Assertiveness flipped again, mentioning vith a smile she'll escort Alehi ("Can I call you Alexi?") personally to the social event.

Zarya fell in love with Mei all over again after that, as she listened to her beloved mobster in disguise deliver the well television-ed lecture, with lots of applause.

_Vhat a voman._

* * *

Wait. How was it raining? Indoors-?

* * *

A very harsh smack brought Zarya back to reality.

"You bitch! It's all your fault! I'm in so much pain, so much paaain-!"

Urgh. From her little sun's precious face to this minion's ugly mug. Smells like he has no idea what dental care was like either.

Someone shoot her already. Pah.

Seems like the weakling she bit before finally gained enough grit to hit her. Zarya snarled towards the mook.

He trailed back, scared shitless.

Hah. To think she had these fucking straps on her.

"ARRRGH! I wanna go home. Just... watch some telly. Drink some beer. Patch this fucking arm up, dammit-"

"Hey."

Sounds like Amari woke up too.

"If you want to go home so much... why not set us free? You'll be relieved of guarding duty like that-"

The mook unleashed one hell of a punch into Fareeha's gut. The trapped hitman could only reel in agony.

"Shut up! You're the one to talk! You get to be in that comfy chair, whilst I do all the work!"

Then, the mook smiled.

**"In fact..."**

Zarya and Fareeha then realised at the same time.

They were completely drowsed in water again.

"SHIII **II-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGH-!!!!"**

* * *

A lone figure raised his cuffs, fixing his hat outside of the locked door.

Apart from his clean poncho, his appearance looked dreary like the people inside the room.

He could hear the screams of the _poor_ damsels as they were being tortured again by Junkrat's minion.

Tsk. Tsk.

What kind of a man would he be if he was to leave them in such conditions?

* * *

**-knock knock knock-**

The Roadhog instantly lowered the electroshock level to zero, giving the two women much needed pause.

They reeled into the strap out of recoil again, this time more violently.

"FUCK!" Pharah swore loudly, both out of anger and sheer pain. "You just- **just** **wait** until I'm free of this thing-!"

"SHHHH!" The Roadhog coaxed the very angry Egyptian. "I need to hear if-"

**-knock-**

"Oh thank heavens," the injured mook sighed happily, as he switched the machine off completely. "Sounds like my shift is over."

Fareeha and Zarya felt oddly confused. Already? Why did he wake them up just for one shock?

_"Dis doesn't sound like Junkrat's style at all."_

_"Fuck. Don't get your hopes up. You know how much he gets off dragging **you** down. Maybe this IS his style."_

_"Shit. Jou're right. Better be silent and observe their routine."_

_"Gotcha."_

"Shut up!! I can still hear you-!"

**-knock-**

"Alright, alright! Geez, this must be Frankie. He's the one who gets eager to do this stuff. Friggin' weirdo."

Both Fareeha and Zarya held their breath as the mook opened the door.

"Ooooh Frankie-?"

Nothing.

"Frank-?"

**-twack-**

A very skillful hand knocked the mook out cold with a simple pistol whip, square on his head. 

The poor henchman had no chance.

The second he fell on the floor, the hidden rescuer dragged his unconscious body into the cell, closing the door behind him. Said rescuer wiped his hands clean, deeming his work done. "That does it. Nighty night, my ugly friend. I hope to never see you again."

Fareeha was happy to both see the guy AND hear that voice.

**"JESSE!"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start playing Cowboy by Bon Jovi, ladies. Jesse's here! (cue football match cheers)
> 
> I felt like there was much needed fluff after the previous chapter, so I added this little piece.
> 
> And the next chapter is going to be quite a doozy, sooooo... enjoy the fluff guys. 
> 
> Gangster style! *gun motion*
> 
> Gangster AU is based on Super Risu's wonderful ideas plus Logos + O.K.'s fantastic fics!
> 
> Any feedback is much appreciated. Too-dlooo~
> 
> PS: If you noticed that Mei herself used an alias around Zarya in the cavern... here's your cookie! :-D


	5. Halcyon Days - Nothing - Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy recalls the happier days with Fareeha before entering Junkrat's hidden compound to rescue her.

_They were in Munich. Cold. Freezing._

_It was late at night. Everyone who was a decent person was fast asleep._

_There was a man. Tied to a chair. Nothing but ropes and bright lighting to keep him company._

_“I told you before. **I won’t talk** -!”_

_And pain. Lots of it._

_Fareeha and her associate, Saleh, were tasked to find the discovered mole and make him talk._

_He had leaked precious information of their boss to close rivals._

_For pitiful amounts of money._

_Any other time, the two gangsters would’ve admired the man’s audacity._

_“I won’t talk! I’m not afraid of **that bitch** -!”_

_As the man spat out more blood, Fareeha slowly walked towards him, raising her sleeves till the biceps. She grabbed his chin, forcefully making him see and feel the face of death within blazing eyes. “You can talk big. But I can see it. You’re shaking at the idea of pissing Mercy off.” The man’s bravado was gone. Fareeha called his bluff right._

_“I have no idea what made you accept the money… you never were poor, or ate dirt to survive.”_

_Saleh could see Fareeha’s hold on the man’s chin close tighter, making the thick lines around his mouth squeeze together._

_"But if you think the Angel of Death is scary **… you’ve never met an Amari**.”_

_Saleh looked into the mobile’s vivavoice. Mercy did not give any further instructions._

_The man took a deep breath. If he had to die that night, then so be it._

_**"I DON'T CARE**. I don’t care about  **that fucking iceberg OR your mother’s cunt**! You can do anything to me! Throw me into the river!! Fill my corpse with nothing but shells!!  **BUT I. WON’T. TALK-!!"**_

_He saw Pharah prepare a neck snapping blow._

_Perhaps it was time to die._

_'Not the face, Pharah~'_

_Fareeha changed the trajectory of her arm’s swing for it to connect with the tied man’s stomach in mid-air, making him lurch out of pain. Saleh kept looking at the mobile's speaker. No camera was switched on._

_How did she…?_

* * *

_As if St. Petersburg wasn't cold enough._

_It was **hailing**  now. Motherfucking huge ass ice drops, straight onto the dashboard, falling heavily without rhythm one by one. Fareeha Amari, the newly appointed leader of Mercy's elite, clung onto the steering wheel for dear life, staying close to the barely felt heat inducing air conditioner._

_"When t-the fuck is Z-Zarya c-coming..."_

_Teeth chattering, nose frozen. She had Nisa and Tariq for company. Mercy did not allow Pharah to go for any task involving Zarya alone, big or small._

_"Easy, Captain. Zarya will soon come. She never came late to appointments." Little did they know, that day also happened to be the one where a certain archaeologist visited Russia. Zarya tended to get alienated with any sort of appointment that didn't involve her girlfriend on those days._

_Three, freezing hours later, Fareeha slammed the white van door's open._

_"Y-you! Stay here! I'll be b-back soon-!"_

_"Okay, Ca-"_

_**-slam-** _

_"-ptain?"_

_Tariq raised the nearly empty bottle, liquid miraculously still moving within the glass. "More vodka?"_

_What happened next when the door opened was unprecedented. Both veteran hitmen gawked at the newly discovered species. Five scarfs, all the same colour. One big rabbit hat. Pricey tag still on. And one **hell**  of an oversized bear coat._

_Fareeha practically disappeared into the... suit? Could you call it that?_

_"Aaaah, **much better~** "_

_Tariq, trained assassin, could barely keep his cool. "It's like the Michelin man come to life... but **red.** " _

_Nisa couldn't resist. She took a quick snap of Fareeha's new look whilst she kept melting into her much warming engulfing outfit. She checked the time zones, tapping the screen quickly. It was almost morning at the base. But if there was **ONE**  person who needed to see Pharah like  **that**..._

_ Nisa, 1:00am (Location Russia)_

_> Boss, you won't believe this_

_> On our way to Zarya_

_> We've discovered a yeti_

_Mercy shot up at the message, thinking something bad happened. She was sleeping on Fareeha's side.  Blinking tiredly towards the white screen, careful to not knock out her precious mug by the bedside table, she quickly responded, grumbling to herself._

_ Mercy. 4:04am (Location: Gibraltar) _

_> What the_

_> This better be important, Nisa_

_ Nisa, 1:05am (Location Russia) _

_> Behold_

_**Sending photo...** _

_**Photo sent.** _

_"What are you doing-?" Tariq asked Nisa, terrified of being caught. "Zarya's almost here-!"_

_"SH! Wait, wait, boss' replying..."_

_All fear replaced with curiosity, Tariq clung onto his metaphorical skirt as Nisa held on the mobile for dear life. Fareeha removed one scarf from covering her mouth._

_"Hey, you guys are being awfully quiet in the back..."_

_Was it the outfit-?_

_**Receiving message...** _

_"Sorry for keeping jou all vaiting-" Zarya arrived._

_And so did Mercy's response._

_"BWA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAA-!!! VHAT ON EARTH ARE JoU VEARING-?!" Tariq and Nisa joined Zarya despite their efforts._

_Fareeha sighed out of embarrassment. At least Angela wasn't seeing this..._

_ Mercy. 4:10am (Location: Gibraltar) _

_> No Nisa. No. That  **can't**  be her_

_ Nisa, 1:11am (Location Russia) _

_> It is, boss_

_ Mercy. 4:11am (Location: Gibraltar) _

_> **It is-?!**_

_When they returned to base, Mercy kept asking Fareeha if she heard about the recent 'mysterious yeti sightings' discovered in Russia for **weeks**._

* * *

_Angela stayed hidden behind the cherry blossom themed folding screen, as she waited for Fareeha to arrive into the office._

_It was her birthday today, so she gave the Amari princess a much-needed break._

_"But what’s the point if you’re not beside me?”_

_Ever the romantic. “Fareeha, work never sleeps. I’ll phone you when I’m free.”_

_“…Okay. Love you.”_

_“I know."_

_Mercy had just completed an extensive interview with a nosy but well informed red haired reporter from the notorious Athena News Network. She liked reading her work (spared her a lot of time) as Ms Lindtom covered the war and mafia aspects of the city. Angela admired her tenaciousness, although Fareeha did mull over arranging an 'accident' for when ANN had that exclusive Amari docks reportage that week._

_Besides, the reporter always kept Mercy on her toes._

_**-knock knock-** Thinking of the devil~_

_“Boss? I’m coming in.”_

_Focus, Angela. You are the Angel of Death. Stay quiet and-_

_**-gasp-** _

_"For me~?!”_

_It took all of Mercy’s willpower to not peek out of the hiding spot. As she covered her mouth to hide her breath, wrapping paper being torn away very enthusiastically was heard. Again. And again._

_And again._

_“What the hell? How many boxes are there-?” That made Mercy almost revealed her location._

_The paper creasing noises kept going._

_“Hmm,” Pharah kept talking to herself, not knowing she had company. “It can’t be a suit, she always buys me one once a month…”_

_Try harder, Faree. Although suit day was something Mercy always looked forward to…_

_“Can’t be ties either, I like buying those myself…”_

_Mm. Slipped through her mind now and then._

_“Could be a watch… but then why all these boxes?”_

_A watch is too predictable. Therefore, boring._

_“Could it be…” Fareeha finally opened **the**  box containing her present. “ **CUFFS** -!”_

_Silence._

_Okay, she must’ve opened the gift. Mercy peaked out. Yep. Still gaping at the present. Like the cute scarab she was._

_Angela slowly creeped towards the Egyptian’s towering back, careful not to make any noise._

_“No way. This has got to be-“_

_Warm, slender arms wrapped tightly around Fareeha, holding her hard as she could. “Happy birthday, Fareeha.”_

_A very happy Angela nuzzled the side of her neck where the Doctor's mark was, placing a light kiss on Fareeha’s flustered cheek. As she looked back, Fareeha stayed gawking in the same manner as before, disbelieving what was in her hands. The more she looked that way, the bigger Angela’s smile got._

_For the gift box contained Armani clothing._

_Specifically, many Armani boxers._

_Armani._

_**SWISS THEMED**._

_Boxers._

_Mercy put a well-placed finger on Fareeha’s hyoid bone, calming her down a little. "You, you didn't_ have _to, angel."_

_Then, the smile grew wider. Pharah's boss leaned into one of Fareeha's flushing red ears, making the blush travel across her whole face._

_**“Try one on."** _

* * *

_"Oooooooh~”_

_It was Mercy’s birthday today._

_“Oooooooh~~”_

_And she was not amused._

_“Fareeha. **What**  are you doing.”_

_The much feared and respected mobster removed the white blanket from her face a little enthusiastically._

_"Don’t you recognise me? I’m the ghooooost of eternal smoooocheees-!” Okay, maybe not convincing enough. “Soooooomeone summoned me because it's your birthday toooodaaaay... so I’m here to haunt you until the end of tiiiiiiiime-!” Angela started shaking her head at the display._

_"With many kissesssss~”_ _Fareeha kept making silly ghost and kissing noises until the boss only showed her back to see._

_This disappointed her a lot._

_“You’re supposed to go ‘Oh no. What am I going to do?’ and then **I**  go ‘Nooooooothiiiing, here I-‘“_

_“Faree.”_

_Gulp. “Yes, darling?”_

_“Are we in bed at the moment?”_

_“…No.”_

_Mercy walked swiftly next to Pharah, tracing two fingers over her collarbone._

_“Save it for later.” Bop on the nose._

_Fareeha kept staring at the nearest wall, even after the door closed. It worked...?_

_She didn't say **stop**. The mischievous ghost saluted her boss.  _

_"Okay habibti~”_

* * *

_Angela woke up earlier than usual, realising Fareeha wasn't resting beside her. She could tell the other side was still stone cold._

_A familiar twist of pain surged in her heart._

_What happened the night before... started well. But then, in the middle of their love making, Fareeha started asking for something impossible. The unmentionable happened between them, anger taking over reason once more. Angela **despised** fighting with Pharah. _

_Their fights made her feel really bad about herself._

_She shuddered when recalling the last real fight they had..._

_It rarely happened, true. Usually they made up a few hours after. At worst, days._

_Mercy sincerely hoped this was one of the former times._

_Angela saw Fareeha cook something. Although it's smell was inviting, it was probably for herself._

_Pharah was already in her work clothes. Angela started fixing her nightgown pensively. That eager to leave...?_

_Her cup was empty._

_Sighing, Angela filled her mug up with some Za'atar herbs, hoping the smell will show the Egyptian that she missed her a little._

_...Perhaps a little more than that._

_"Did you hear?"_

_Oh? Has she forgiven her already? "What?"_

_"Apparently they've chosen **that**  Italian referee to take care of the Stanley match tonight. As if we didn't need more bad luck."_

_Perfect monotone._

_Angela tapped her finger on the bench, as she waited for the hot water to be really. There was Fareeha's beloved hockey team tonight playing against their despised rivals. Mercy didn't particularly like the sport. She was more into tennis or racing stuff. Both were more profitable outlets apart from being entertainment. But whenever the Montreals won a match, important or not, Pharah was always happy._

_And that was enough for her._

_Mercy tested the waters a little. "This referee... has a bad reputation?" She saw Fareeha wrap a croissant into a neat, white napkin._

_When she does that, usually that particular item of food was for..._

_Mercy kept sipping her tea, a little smile emerging after reading the adjectives which were added above the_ 'My #1 _Boss' font with a simple sharpie._

_"Yes. He's a certified fanboy of the Toronto Maple Leafs. And we haven't won a Stanley Cup since 1993. I..."  She kept working on her omelette, its smelling inviting as the temptation of apologising. Angela didn't push it, wanting to leave the room the second her tea was done. Doubt she'll remember to-_

_"...I placed twenty grand on us Nos Glorieux winning the cup."_

_That almost made the crime boss unceremoniously spit her tea out._

_"Excuse you-?"_

_Fareeha placed her omelette perfectly on the plate, not leaving a trace of it on the pan. She sat on the far end of the table. Mercy rubbed her temple a little. "I'm not your mother, Far- Pharah, but... betting that amount of money without guaranteed profit? Why did you do that?"_

_The mercenary munched on her food a little. Angela's beverage was almost empty. Back to being ignor-_

_"Because of you." Mercy looked at her disbelievingly. "When I asked you if you wanted to go to Marrakesh, and you said yes, I looked at the odds of the match and..."_

_Fareeha focused on her food, not finishing the sentence._

_Well. Maybe she can test the waters a little more. "Fareeha... you didn't need to. That money was better used elsewhere."_

_"I know."_

_"Like casinos."_

_"I know."_

_"And maybe your car."_

_Silence._

_**Shit,** leave the car out. Mercy forgot that she was using it this week. _

_"The keys are in the usual place."_

_As she refilled the tea mug, Fareeha started picking up her belongings. "Gotta go. The local dentists forgot they had the protection racket to pay up yesterday. So did the butchers." She flicked her hat on like Mercy would usually ask her to. "Time to go collect."_

_Dashing as always._

_"Hmm." One last try. "Good day."_

_Fareeha walked past by her, as she closed the door to go for work. Angela opened her eyes, having expected at least a small kiss._

_No coffee found ready. No surprise food of the day. No morning kiss._

_A cloud full of rain and thunder might as well have appeared above Mercy's head._

_Talk about a shitty day--_

_The door reopened, letting in a stomping Fareeha go straight towards a surprised Angela._

_"This is for you," Fareeha said quickly, followed by a quicker kiss. "Good day, Angela."_

_**-slam-** _

_Grey clouds disappeared. Angela went back to her usual spot. **Now**  she can check the local news in pea-_

_The door swiftly reopened yet again. "Don't think I've forgotten last night! You WILL tell me you love me somehow, even if I force it out of you-!!"_

_Angela kept drinking her tea, not peeling her eyes from the articles._

_"On my deathbed."_

_Fareeha let out a frustrated groan, closing the door behind without a care. Mercy's mood lightened a little more, as she checked the match's online odds with their shared tablet. Fareeha **did**  remember to kiss her good morning, and  **did**  prepare her something to eat. The light touch of affection still tingled on the crime boss' smile._

_But her morning kiss **got**   **delayed**._

_Ah, here's the sports section's details..._

_And, despite it coming late, STILL was delayed somehow._

_...Nevermind the previous night._

_**It was all the referee's fault.** _

_As she ate on her home made croissant (mm, still warm) Angela phoned one of her elite through speaker._

_"Saleh, drop all assignments. I've got a job for you."_

* * *

_Fareeha prepared the living room. The glee on her resembled one of a child on Christmas day._

_Fresh popcorn and nachos? Check._

_Elite squad who also happened to be avid fans of the team? Check. (Although Saleh was on an emergency mission, apparently.)_

_Big screen? Ultra HD? Dolby surround? Triple check._

_Mer- Wait what?_

_"Angela?"  Fareeha asked, completely surprised by her boss' appearance. "Did something happen-?"_

_The so called elite squad started laughing._

_A confident sway only Mildred Pierce can imitate followed Angela's pace, a familiar scent of lavender pleasantly invading Fareeha's senses. "Does something have to happen in order to watch a match with all of you? You disappoint me, Faree." Angela took a seat next to her fangear clad hitman, taking over any space the couch had. S_ _eeing Pharah flinch made the mafiosa think she was still in the doghouse._

_Was it too soon...?_

_Seeing Angela take interest in her hobby left Fareeha a little dumbfounded, but happy. Why did they fight again? "You're gonna watch with us?" Okay, let's try things all over again. "With me?"_

_Fuck it. "Would you prefer me leaving-"_

_Fareeha shook her head, bringing Mercy close. "N-no. You can stay. But... this isn't usual of you. You don't like hockey."_

_A little smile thugged Angela's lips. "And you don't like tennis, yet you watch it with me," she flipped her hair the way Fareeha adored. "...compromise?"_

_The bodyguard gave a quick kiss on her angel's nose, making the feared boss lean into the Egyptian. "Compromise."_

_Playfully swaying Angela's face with her nose, Fareeha applied a small firm kiss on her nape, enjoying the shiver of excitement that replaced tense nerves._

_The elite soldiers were used to the display of affection Fareeha loved giving to Angela, wherever they were._

_It was the opposite that still jarred them a little._

_Nisa went back to the kitchen, as instructed by Mercy, who was ~~happily~~  distracting Pharah by giving her long, slow strokes on her back._

* * *

_She phoned Saleh._

_He had reached destination. He has located the main referee and all his assistants. They were going to make the traditional prayer and oath of neutrality judging in the locker room soon. Nisa laughed. Like a real referee ever sticked to his oaths when money was involved._

_And if money wasn't enough... his background will be very useful._

* * *

_Nisa went back into the living room, speakers blasting out pre-match blood pounding music, mostly pop and famous remixes._

_"Boss, Lucio phoned. He really needs to talk to you."_

_Fareeha let out a sigh of disappointment. She was really enjoying her girl-  mm, boss' company, despite the quarrel they had recently._

_"I have to go. Got a little something to do."_

_"Alright. Miss you."_

_"I don't."_

_"Yes, you do."_

_Mercy would usually retort to that. But she let out a small smile instead, planting a solid kiss on the nearest cheek._

_"...Maybe a little."_

_That made Fareeha swallow a lump of surprise audibly, as Mercy went into the kitchen with that smile still lingering for everyone to see._

_It was gone the second Nisa gave her the phone._

_"Talk only when I instruct you to. Don't disappoint me, Saleh."_

_"Yes boss."_

* * *

_The referees and his assistants reached the locker room for the pre-match prayer._

_"Let us be neutral and fair to the local teams... judge only when right..."_

_'I'm afraid I can't let you do that.'_

_All men stared ahead. Saleh was sitting down in front of them, holding a gun in one hand. A mobile phone was seen in the other._

_All assistant referees glared to their main in disgust. "Back to the old ways, are you?" "Bleeh, can't imagine **how** I believed you..."_

_"W-Wait, I changed! Where are you going?! This is a misunderstanding! You can't all leave like this-!"_

_**\- slam -**_

_The main ref slammed his fist on the table. "Filgio di puttana-! We had agreed-!! I leave the football world, and you leave me alone! What more do you want from me?!" A chuckle came out of the speaker, making the ref stop on his tracks. Wait. That's not the usual voice..._

_'Ah-ah-ah, Mr Moggi. I'm not the usual suspect. If anything, I'm more of... an outsider. Consider this a one stop visit.'_

_That was the voice of a woman. It was cold and demanding. The referee asked in a fearful tone. "What... what do you want from me? Who are you?"_

_With a cold, expressionless face, Saleh let the boss take care of business. The gun stayed on target._

_'That you follow my instructions carefully. Or else... you **will**  know who I am. I assure you.'_

_The referee tried his fortune._

_"What if I refuse?"_

_The answer came swiftly. 'You will become VERY intimate with the locker room you happen to be in. **Just like 2006**.'_

_That gave the Italian ref 'nam style flashbacks. Free flowing water ducts were released in both directions._

_" **NO! NO PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT** -" _

_Saleh smiled. He removed the gun safety for better effect._

_'Then listen.'_

* * *

_"Where is Angela?" Fareeha looked around. "The match is about to start..."_

_She got up, aiming for the kitchen room. "Angie? Babe the match is about to-"_

_The elite soldiers tried distracting her. "Hey it's the manager. You're gonna miss the pre-match interview?"_

_Plop goes the hit man. ~~Poor couch~~. Hassan let a shared sigh of relief out to the others when Pharah wasn't looking._

* * *

_'You can fool around in the first half as much as you want.'_

_The manger was giving a much needed pep talk to his MC players before the match._

_'Give the impression you are to your biased ways towards the Toronto's team. Especially before the second half.'_

_Fareeha and the squad started chanting the Montreal songs alongside the fans in the stadium._

_'I can allow a draw at half time the most.'_

_Saleh got up, aiming to return to base. His job was done. A trembling referee had gotten the message clear._

_'But remember. **Montreal has to win**.'_

* * *

_Nisa and Mercy returned to the hyped up atmosphere together._

_"Welcome back!" Tariq nodded towards Angela. "Boss. Show's about to start."_

_The sharpshooter offered them a nice set of nachos. Mercy refused, Nisa took some gratefully._

_"Where were you??" Fareeha grabbed Angela's hands towards the couch, dragging her there. "No more work, you get me? Players are coming soon-!"_

_Angela let a little smile out, placing an arm around Fareeha's waist, enjoying the move was reciprocated. "Understood."_

_As the players entered the stadium, Mercy let out a long sigh. "Hey. Why the long face?"_

_Innocent flutter eye mode, commence. "I... was looking forward to our trip to Marrakesh."_

_It took quite a lot for the elite squad to not squirm out of nervousness. "This is so **weird,** " Menna whispered to Nisa. "Boss?  **Flirting?** "_

_Nisa shrugged._

_"Angela..." Fareeha started filling the Angel of Death's face with many kisses without thought. "I did so too. But you never know in hockey..."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah... it only takes one chance to change everything. Kinda like in football. You constantly tell me that, ya amar."_

_Angela placed her head onto Fareeha's chest, smiling when she was held closer by big, strong arms. The feel of rising slowly with every one of Fareeha's heartbeats was very soothing._

_The vice captain shrugged further towards her team. "Get used to it."_

_The Stanley Cup theme song started playing, as the players all gathered up for the final showdown._

_"Hell yes, we're about to start-!"_

* * *

_**"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES-!"** _

_**"NOOOOOOOOOOO-!"** _

_**"YOU FUCKING CHEATER-!"** _

_**"IT'S THE REF, IT'S ALWAYS THE REF!"** _

_**"HE DIVED, CAN'T YOU SEE?! HE FUCKING DIVED YOU BLIND SON OF A-!"** _

_**"YOU DIDN'T PUNCH HIM HARD ENOUGH-!"** _

_Mercy looked at the TV screen.  She had no idea what was going on, no matter how hard she tried. She returning back to her live entertainment. Pharah's face could have so many different expressions at once- **ouch**. That looked nasty, even for all of them. And that's saying something._

_" **ALLAH, ANOTHER SIN BIN-!"**_

_"Faree, your blood pressure."_

_Angela helped Fareeha take deep breaths as instructed. After calming her guard down ("I was always calm") she grabbed a napkin from the table, gently wiping off a stain off Pharah's cheek. "You're such a mess sometimes..."_

_Puckering nacho themed lips towards Angela, she couldn't resisting pinching the sides of Fareeha's cheeks a bit. "_ _Ow-!"_

_Stroking her thumbs lightly where she playfully pinched ealier, Angela's expression softened, scooting a little closer in a teasing manner. "But you're **my**  mess." F_ _ollowed by a tender kiss between them, nacho sauce included._

_**-whistle-** _

_"Half time, **finally** ," Hassan and the others looked like they went through many trials at once. "So, who wants some popcorn?"_

_Mercy felt like teasing a bit more.  "So... where's the glory in all of this?"_

_Pharah pointed eagerly towards the screen. "Right there! See? Hockey is a calming, peaceful sport." At that moment, the two captains went for each other's throats, their teammates jumping straight in their club's defence. For the mafiosi, seeing other people beat each other up in their leader's name was oddly relatable._

_"You're right," Angela softly planted a kiss on Fareeha's cheek, as blood, pain and broken teeth filled the enormous smart tv screen._

_'You'll pay for that--!!' "This **is** calming." _

* * *

_Angela lifted her own mobile in order for Fareeha to see, sighing a bit more._

_" **Everything**  seems to be pointing towards Montreals losing tonight..."_

_"Don't remind m- wait, what are yo-"  Angela pressed the accept button. "But- but you'll lose money."_

_She shrugged.  "Didn't bet as much you did, sure... but at least you won't lose all by yourself."_

_Besides, they will need spending money for the trip. Considering she knew the final result..._

_Pharah gave her boss an odd look. Mercy decided to bring out the big guns._

"Fareeha _... if we some **how**  manage to win the match tonight-"  Angela could only understand a "fat chance" remark through all the grumbling that came out of Pharah's mouth. "-slim or not," Angela placed a finger of her cheek, smiling a little. "It would be like we owe each other a favour, wouldn't it?"_

_That pulled Fareeha's awareness away from the television. "What do you have in mind?" Smiling, she leaned into the Egyptian's ear. An Egyptian's ears matched the team's colours perfectly._

_"...And I'll keep my end of the bargain." Fareeha stayed a little quiet for awhile, processing what she heard._

_"...What a tease. You KNOW we're going to lose."  As Pharah grumbled a bit more, Mercy was tempted to smile again._

_But that would make some modifications to the result a little too obvious._

_Now... how to convince her to wear **that**  dress for the night..._

* * *

_There were only 10 minutes left. The referee seemed to have switched preferences in terms of sin bins and foul noticing._

_Good._

_"Free kick! Free kick!" Everyone started stomping on the floor. "We're gonna do this! Mon-tre-als-! **Mon** - **tre-als!** " The cheering matched with the ones from the stadium. Except for one. The big, strong sicarro hid what lied ahead straight into her hands, unable to watch the set piece unfold. _

_"Uuuuurgh, I can't watch thiiis..." The entire squad was about to laugh, but one look from their leader shut them up._

_"Fareeha..." she coaxed her bodyguard to watch the screen. "Your team can't win if you don't give them support..."  The referee blew his whistle._

_Pharah, despite her anxiety, peeked through the fingers. Angela found the conflicting vision adorable._

_The player lifted his stick, going for the goal-_

_**"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL-!"** _

_**"Straight from the set piece-!!"** _

_**"Incredible-!!"** _

_"Okay, that was impressive- oh!"_

_A incredibly happy Fareeha wrapped her hands around Angela's back, completely forgetting that ~~technically~~ Mercy was still her boss. _

_"We did it! We did it! We're going to win the cup! We're going to Marrakesh! **We're going to Marrakessssh!** "  As Angela squeezed her hand, she simply enjoyed Fareeha's affections after the previous screw up. She had already prepared cruise tickets under the false names of Ms F. Barrow and Dr A. Parker way before the match started._

_After making Fareeha cry, it was the least she could do._

* * *

_As the two lovers basked in the afterglow, one of them had a particular question in mind._

_"You fixed the final, didn't you?"_

_Angela kept invoking traces of circles on Fareeha's bare back absentmindedly, despite being caught red handed. "...What if I did?"_

_"I knew it. You were too calm, even for you," a deep rumble echoed in her chest, making Angela feel both secure and... safe._

_"I appreciate, by the way." She cuddled closer. "I forgive you for last night..."_

_Relief came flooding down well on the feared crime boss, even though she didn't show it. ~~Tried.~~_

_"I cannot help it," Angela whispered, as Fareeha started peppering light kisses on her exposed neck and shoulders. "I want to make you happy. You did bewitch me, after all..."_

_That made Fareeha stop. "What... what did you say?"_

_Angela Ziegler wanted to say the words proper. The Angel of Death wanted to feed Pharah's ego._

_Moving her mouth to Fareeha's ear, Mercy slowly repeated what she said, both sides reaching a compromise. As her guard (she was far more than simply that) gently started to roll Angela onto her back, both searched for each other's hands. She tried her damned hardest not to, wanting to remember every movement of Fareeha's face, but felt her sight slide shut the second her lover closed the distance between them._

_Angela was a woman of her word. She was going to let Fareeha be the boss._

_All night long._

* * *

_The two notorious gangsters reached the poshy lookout. Mercy made a specific type of knock on the heavy looking door._

_"Den of Iniquity, huh? You don't suppose you've seen his lost cousin somewhere?"_

_Here we go. Angela mentally prepared herself for any coming pun. "Which lost cousin?"_

_"The Den of **Inquiry**." Fareeha made a drum motion. Angela took a long puff from her cigar, barely hiding her amusement._

_"Seriously. Why am I with you again?"_

_"Oh come on, it wasn't **that**  bad-"_

_The peep hole slid open suddenly. A pair of cold, black eyes glared through it, cutting any sort of conversation short._

_'Ai ai, smai senflecs.'_

_Mercy completed the password._

_"Eni go for doing peso."_

_**'Ai.'** _

_**"Ai."** _

_"What was that?" Fareeha asked, not recognising the language. Maybe it was code speak she was unfamiliar with-_

_"English."_

_**"Wha-?"** _

_Fareeha didn't have time to ponder on the password. A giant slab of iron opened the door for them. The bouncer had a giant skull hanging on his torso. A giant, augmented arm that made Pharah worry for her own safety, figures--_

_Old instincts kicked in. Pharah stepped in front of Mercy, head raised high. Both arms placed on back, prepared to either use them or the hidden guns in the jacket's holsters. She started to stare off the intimidating figure, cracking her neck audibly for good measure._

_"Welcome to the Den. Boss will be with you shortly," despite his size, the bouncer didn't seem looking for trouble. "Your seats are ready. We will call for you soon."_

_"Thank you, Akande," Pharah's boss couldn't have sounded colder if she wanted to. "Kindly tell your boss to hurry the fuck up. Tell him Mercy is here." With a short nod, the head bouncer left to inform his boss of the new arrival. "_ _That should be enough to make good old Reaper twist a little."_

_Fareeha felt a pair of arms eagerly snake through an arced one. She didn't miss how slowly Mercy's fingers traced the Amari heir's biceps, satisfaction filling Pharah's chest. She wasn't this affectionate in public, usually._

_Unless..._

_After stubbing out the used cigar, Mercy straightened her posture, letting out a small smile._

_"Shall we go? There seems to be a show starting."_

_"After you." Fareeha led her boss towards their seat, stepping aside to let Angela sit down on the open chair she brought out._

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen! Allow us to present you, your entertainment for tonight-!"

 _Despite the poshy environment of the joint, there seemed to be a decently sized raunchy crowd that Fareeha was more familiar with... not that the mafiosa_ didn't _like posh now and then, making a quick glance towards her squeeze._

_Angela lowered her Blackwood drink in return, rotating the floating ice in its centre._

"-don't judge their appearance, these two fellas are as mean and nasty as any one of us in this room!"

 _The hall was filled with whistles, table slamming and howling. S_ _o much for poshiness._

_"What is it, Faree?"_

_They moved their table to the far end of the hall. Their seat was already discreet as it was, but the way they were now gave them a better view of the stage. Purple themed curtains were open wide, the area were they were now seated was usually reserved for business meetings. Fareeha did not actually care about the show._

_The gangsters that were around them all started cheering one name._

"COLT! COLT! COLT!”

"-Please welcome, Joan Coltrane and Skip James! Our very own blues duo,  **Salt & Vinegar**!"

_As the crowd responded gleefully, the crime boss started to feel something rest lightly on her knee, tingling the skin. It was Fareeha's leg, feeling light and soft as it stayed hooked around Angela's bare one. Thankfully, the table cloth covered whatever intention she had. Angela pretended to be unaware, taking another sip from her drink._

_Two ~~familiar~~  figures stepped onto the stage._

_"Hello, how's it hanging everyone?" The audience might as well have been a synchronised battle drum._

_"Tell me why we are **here** , instead of home, or at least enjoying our company alone." _

_It was Fareeha's birthday that day._

_"I told you before. We need to talk to Reaper. He owed us money and didn't pay up," she stirred her glass, not breaking eye contact with Pharah. "And we're here."_

_The duo started preparing their instruments. The brunette placed a hand behind an ear, warming her shoes up._

_"I said HOW'S IT HANGING~!"_

"WE LOVE YOU JOAN-!!" "COLT! COLT! COLT!"

_"You could've sent one of the others to do this," Fareeha leaned closer towards Angela's ear. "No... I know you too well. You've got something **else**  in mind." _

_"Do I, now...?"_

_Whilst boisterous laughter took over almost everyone, an anthropomorphic gorilla responded just as raunchily. "Try to keep up with us, punks! We'll slow down for no one-!" The hooligans were all in a good mood, their real entertainment of the night finally arrived._ _Two in particular were._

 _One was a big, oversized Scottish bruiser, the other a petite, long haired woman, who reminded people of a spider the second they saw her. Both sighed longingly towards the singing brunette._ _"Ahhh... I neu she likes women, but ya can't help but let a man dream..."_  

_The Amari secretary agreed, a smug smile sliding on her face. After all, the blues show was the only reason she was in the joint in the first place._

_"Okay folks, we've got a story about Minnie the Moocher for all you... hey, hey, **hey** , I gotta need some  **sound**  Skip, stop being so moody and **play**  already!" _

_As ~~Winston~~  SKIP, started flexing his fingers,  ~~Lena~~  COLT started warming up her voice. "Up-up-up-up-up! Do-do-da-da-da-da-daoooown~"_

_"...I need you here. Reaper won't listen to me if we talk alone. Not today at least."_

_As if to challenge her sanity, a cool hand slipped under the table. Fareeha started rubbing her boss's exposed knee very slowly. "That didn't stop you from going alone in the previous visits..."  She looked away from Angela's scrutinising stare, glancing towards the stage quite nonchalantly. "Oh, I know those guys. They're cops."_

_THAT distracted any lewd thoughts forming in Mercy's mind. "What? How do you know...?"_

_"Met them once. Whilst on my way home. T'was the the day you completely gave up on Gerard's competence."_

_The mere mention of the ex-person made Angela see nothing but red. She needed to vent her anger on something._

_Mercy noted the skull ornaments both ~~not cops~~  blues singers had around their necks._

_The **nerve**. Even if they did work for someone like Reaper... she started tapping a mess_ age on the phone screen.

>Menna. I want you to target these two. Call themselves J. Coltrane and S. James. They are- 

_"I like them," Fareeha started snapping her fingers with her other hand to the entertainer's rhythmical song, as the lights started to dim around the stage. "They're harmless, despite their profession. Heard they work for the local boss too. A certain Reaper? They might be useful to us."_

_One glance towards Fareeha._

 

**-message deleted-**

 

_Angela let a small sigh escape her lips. When did she let this woman take over her so..._

 

_The trumpet and piano kept improv-ing in the background, as the answer to that question started to slide its way up to the crime boss' thigh._

_It did not help Fareeha's leg started rubbing against her own. Neither gangster moved, arms, knees and legs brushed together in unity._

_"Amari."_

_"Ziegler."_

_As everyone was distracted by the blues duo, Angela's eyes locked straight onto Fareeha's._

_The soft, climbing rhythm made both criminals fall into a trance._

_"What are you doing...?"_

_Tapping her hat forward, the entertainer started pulling dance moves Bob Fosse would've been proud of._

_Angela felt her younger lover's nails graze parts of her skin seductively, going all the way up._

_Until they reached an inked patch on her hip, representing Bastet._

"...nothing."

_Joan lowered her trumpet, going straight for the old school Electro Voice microphone, lowering it for effect._

**"Now folks~ Here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher~"  
**

_Skip kept going with both the song established rhythm and his partner's energetic movements, as many gangsters started throwing kisses (and hearts) at their favourite jazzer. Jo-Lena_ _started pistol firing towards her fans, fingers snapping and wiggling hips at the beat of the brass band's notes._

_"I keep telling her to stop bonding with these gangsters, but noooo..." Winston grumbled under his breath, knowing he won't be heard._

**"She was a red-hot hoochie-coocher~"**

_Spin. Tap. Tie fix._

_"Aiee... lassie. Ai tink am i'n love."_

**"She was the roughest, toughest frail  
But Minniiiie had a heart, as big as a whale~" **

_Tapping her red shoes on the black boxed floor, Coltrane lifted her trusted trumpet again._

_The good for nothing crowd all knew the lyrics of this song as if it came straight outta the bible._

**("Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!")**

_Lena encouraged the crowd to join her more, walking back a little._

**"Whoa-a-a-a-ah-!"**

_They didn't think twice._   **("Whoa-a-a-a-ah-!")**

 _Joan practically strutted back towards her adoring bad guys._ " **Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-!"**

**("Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-!")**

**"Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee ho-!"**

**("Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee ho-!")**

_As she went back to her trumpet, one lone figure was tapping her finger on the table, very satisfied with herself._

_Whilst the other..._

_"I don't know what you're talking about, boss." Fareeha's touch wandered under Angela's dress, further caressing her thigh in the process._

_Gott, she was going insane. " **Now**  you call me boss..."_

_"I always do."_

_Shaking her body to the sway of the song, Joan kept entertaining the crowd, snapping her fingers and moon walking towards the microphone._

**"She messed arooound with a bloke named Smokey~**    
**She loved him... thoooough he was cokey~"**

_Fareeha winked at the one woman she ever loved. (Apart from her mother.)_

_Angela bit down the front of her whiskey glass, eyelashes fluttering together in response._

**"He took her doooown to Chiiiinatown~  
And he showed her how to kick... the gong around~" **

_Pharah's fingers pushed her underwear to the side. Mercy took a deep breath in anticipation, as the melted ice shook a little._

**"Oh-oh-oh-oh-!"**

**("Oh-oh-oh-oh-!")**

_Lena shook her head towards Amelie, as she made a lewd gesture towards the disguised Brit._

_"Have I read the signs wrong...?" she lamented to herself._

**"He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y-!"**

**(He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y-!)**

_Lena shook her head even more towards the enamoured Scotsman. "Oh ne, es she not interested? Is our love destine to be platonic-?"_

_The Frenchwoman and Scotsman glances met. Both assuming the same thing, they started cracking their knuckles._

_"Aie... so **THAT's**  how thengs aire heere..." "You can't love her if you're  **rotting ten feet under**..."_

**"Oh-oh-oh-oh-!"**

**("Oh-oh-oh-oh-!")**

"Fareeha..."

_"Tell me the word. And I'll continue."_

_"You... Amari. You **can't**  do this. N-not to me."_

**"He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y-!"**

**("He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y-!")**

_Lena tapped danced a little more, Winston's classy piano notes and the dancing shoes being the only sound in the entire hall._

_...Apart from the pumped up, hooting gangsters who just couldn't WAIT to take Lena home and introduce her to their parents and mafia families._

_Lena spun around, her cocktail jacket turning alongside her._ _She started teasing her audience by slowly descending the stage's stairs._

**"She had a dreaaaaam about the King of Sweden~"  
**

_Colt wallked backwards towards the microphone like a pro, let a wink out after the crowd howled as if Rita Hayworth was in front of them._

**"He gave her thiiiiiiiiings that she was needin'~"**

_"Yes I can," Fareeha sunk her nails into the hidden tattoo, "Because you love me."_

_The whimper from Mercy's voice had to be heard to be believed._

**"He gave her a home built of gold and steel-!"**

_"Say it."_

"...bitte..."

_Fareeha traced her tongue over Angela's ear, a sliver of playfulness taking over, as she scooted the eager doctor next to her._

_"Fatat jayida..."_

**"A diamond CAR with a p-la-ti-num WHEEL~"**

_Winston took advantage of the pause in the song in order to jazz up the piano's teeth from top to bottom._

_Amelie and the Scotsman stopped choking each other's throats at what they saw._

_Lena grabbed her hat and started hurrying up her dance moves alongside the pace, loosening her yellow tie at the last minute._

**"Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!"**

**("Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!")**

_"Sweet **haggish**...  **what a woman** -!"_

_"Mon dieu, to be that tie..."_

**"Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!"**

**("Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!")**

_Lena was too into her moves to notice their enamoured reactions._

_So was her audience. The trumpet exchanging the voice was just as fast._

**(Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!)**

_Lena took her hat off and started shaking it, as she played the trumpet expertly with one hand, tapping her feet in synchronisation with the beat._

**("Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!")**

_Some gangsters actually started mimicking Lena's hat imitation of the Queen's wave out of adoration._

_Amist the atmosphere, Fareeha smoothly held her boss in a manner to shield them from prying eyes, especially whilst making Mercy see blinding fireworks. She wrapped a confident arm around Angela's waist, their breaths now mutually consisting of short, muted gasps of air._

_"Wanna come to Chinatown with me, amar...?"_

**("Bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-oh-!!!")**

_Nobody noticed Pharah hook Mercy to the nearest toilet room, locking the main door to prevent anyone from disturbing them._

_Fareeha was immediately slammed into the door by the ~~much tinier~~  woman who possessed her heart unconditionally._

"Where do you think you're going."

_Their lovemaking noises and the soft thumping on the door was completely ignored by the hypnotised crowd._

**("Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!")**

_A nun (don't ask) really needed to go to the bathroom. She happened to hear one of the ladies groan against the moving entrance._

_'Say it... say my name... **say my name** , Fareeh~~ali~~'_

_The penguin was even more scandalised when **a woman**  responded with a deeper groan._

**("Bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-oh-!!!")**

'A-An-Ange~ ** _laaa_ ~~'**  _She made the sign of the cross, praying for the sinners's souls._

_If Angela and Fareeha didn't have a one way ticket to Hell on the same boat, they'll be **very**  disappointed with God._

**"Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!"**

**("Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!")**

_Back to trumpet, Lena goes._

**("Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!")**

**("Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi-!!!")**

**("Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho-!!!")**

_As she pointed towards the crowd, Colt sank down to her knees whilst singing the next verse in a single breath._

**"Skip-de-diddly-skip-de-diddly-diddly-oh-joy!"**

_Only Cab Calloway himself could've done that better._

_Colt swiftly turned to James, snapping her fingers just at the right time, silencing both the piano and the pianist._

**("Skip-de-diddly-skip-de-diddly-diddly-oh-joy!!")**

_The audience fumbled despite their best efforts._

_Lena rose from the floor, hand in the air, back onto the fabulous hat, tap dancing shoes matching with the climbing roar._

**"Aaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaa-ah-!!"**

**("Aaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaa-ah-!!")**

_Fareeha's voice lowered to a growl, imitating the noises from outside._

_"Roaaaaaaaa~~"_

_Lifting her very excited boss against the wall like it was nothing, Fareeha pushed Angela's skirt upwards to nip a little bite mark on her exposed hipbone, hands expertly roaming up and down over slick satin cloth as slender fingers helped tight clasps of the lace garter come undone one by one, until it slid down parted knees to rest at the bottom of dangling legs, two strong arms tightening their grip around a firm waist, before Angela balanced herself on broad etched shoulders. A mirking Egyptian enjoyed the sensation of her malak thrusting her hips impatiently forward as she clutched onto them, making Fareeha leave open mouthed kisses hungrily descending towards-_

**("Whoa-a-a-a-ah-!!!")**

_Lena lifted her trumpet one last time, as they reached the final verse._

**("Poor Min, pooooor Miiin-!!")**

_Poor Min? She was rich as balls. More like poor COLT._

_Lena was so exhausted she tumbled onto the piano back first, still managing to release the final note breathlessly._

"~PHEW"

_Their audience became a little silent after that display._

_"Sacre bleu. I think I felt a heartbeat."_

* * *

_The doctor finished fixing Fareeha's tie, purposefully being quite slow, both facing the mirror in the restroom._

_Mercy couldn't stop looking at the mark resting on Pharah's neck. As she let a gentle breath blow into Fareeha's hair, her jackal let out a growl in pleasure, making Angela plant another earnest kiss on the spot near the eyes, as she gently touched the ujdat tattoo out of affection._

_"Keep touching it like that, and a woman might get_ **ideas...** _"_

_Pulling the tie slowly towards her face, Angela held a vixen-like stare, breathing her response in a whisper. "What kind of ideas...?"_

_Enjoying how breathlessly beautiful Angela was when still in a heaving mess, Fareeha looked up towards her, cheekily enjoying the view, saying the next words softly with a grin. "Wouldn't **you** like to know..."_

_She closed her eyes once more when Angela leaned up, until their lips met. "...Malikati..."_

* * *

_That broke the spell._

**"COLT! COLT! WE WANT MORE! COLT! COLT! WE. WANT. MORE-!"**

_"You heard that Winston?! They love us-!"_

_Winston shouted through his teeth, hoping he was on time. "JOAN-!"_

_Too late. There was silence again. This time, it was not the good kind._

"Winston?" "Isn't his name Skip?" "Joan and the  **monkey**? You're joking-?" " **NEUUUUUU-!!!** "

_Both Mr and Ms Orange sweated buckets like no tomorrow was coming for them. "Eeeeeh..."_

_Until someone broke out laughing._

_"I get it, Colt~ That piano is a YAMAHA, not a Winston-!"  Someone who was in a **very**  good mood. Everyone in the poshy joint glanced at each other. "Just like the pianist-!" Pharah made the joke, that's true._

_That helps. **BUT THE ANGEL OF DEATH WAS LAUGHING.**_

_That NEVER happened before. (Not outdoors.) Everyone whispered one sentence between them._

_"The Angel of Death is laughing."_ _**Everything was forgiven.** _

_"Aahahaha, that's our Colt!" "That's a **YAMAHA** , not a  **WINSTON**!" "What were we thinking? She's one of us-!" _

_It was as if the slip up never happened, much to Skip's relief._

**"COLT! COLT! WE WANT MORE-!!"**

_"I love you too guys-!!"_

_As the audience went back to surround their favourite idol again, Angela felt warm, strong arms wrap firmly around her waist._

_"I should have a birthday every day."_

_Vividly remembering those iron bars grind against her skin all too soon, Mercy caressed her cheek against Pharah's. "Why is that?"_

_"This," she tilted her chin up in order to meet Angela's lips once more. "You're just so... affectionate on these days. Even in public..."_

_That made Angela feel conflicted, despite it not showing. Should she tell her..._

I̶̴͍͍̼̞̪͉̜̠̦̥ͅ'̢̜̺͖͍̹̩̲͔͍͕͈͔̥̤̫ͅm̮̭͕̪̗͓̣͈̤̺̮̪͔͞͝ͅ ̷̣̖̥̠̯͢͜͠n͠͏̵̧͎͕̻̩̺̗̟̟̙o̮͓̺͇̯̠̦̱͉̩͇̭͔͕͜͝͡ͅt̷̫̹̗̮̲̘̥̲̺͍͍̺̼͎̮͉̞̳̲̕͢ ̷̯̳̟͔̣͔̻̠͎̞͉̗̱̹̰̠͕ͅg̨̬͈̳̥̲̫̬͔̯͔͚̝̭͢͞͠ͅo̷̷͇̟̝̘̦̫̺̩̠͇͘͢ͅo̴̶͞҉͓̟̥͎͎͜d̨͍̥̺̘̖͚͕̜͔̬̩̦̞̬̟͙̯͇͜ ̢̛͚̲̱̹̪̹̥͉͢͡ȩ̦̭͖͕̠͍̻̱̦͔̗̭̭̯̲̯͎͔̹͝ņ͉̦͚̱̺̦͎̣̮͔̦̜̺͇͍̯̳͇ͅo̸͔͖̙̱͔͚u҉̼͍͕̜̜̠̪͢͟͞ͅg̬̬̩̳͓͇͕̫̩͍̪̭̤͖͉̫̩͜͞h̢̛̞͖̥̞̜͜

 

No.

_Those words were too soon. And would ruin the mood._

_"Do you wish me to be less discrete about our relationship, Fareeha...? You know I'm not the romantic type of person."_

_Not outdoors, remembering little things like anniversaries and birthday gifts that only Fareeha made her care about._

_Speaking of birthdays..._

_"You? Discrete-?"_ _Fareeha pointed towards the doctor's mark, which was currently swollen due to a few ~~many~~  love bites. "I've heard better jokes that that, Doc..." _

 _The two mobsters exchanged little nothings between each other ("Too bad **my**  mark doesn't show..." "It's only for  **you**  to see, Fareeha...") until the main enforcer and bouncer, Mr Fist, returned. "_ _The Reaper wishes to see you. Follow me."_

_Fareeha still clung onto Ziegler nonchalantly as before, not moving an inch. "Do we really have to?"_

_Angela traced a finger onto Fareeha's neck tattoo, making her feel the shiver that went through Pharah's spine._

_"We do. Come on. The sooner we see him, the sooner we'll leave."_

* * *

_The door was slammed shut with a bang._

_Both mobsters could barely register what happened. "What the hell was up with his FACE?"_

_Angela did warn her about Reaper's plastic surgery. And to try not looking at his face. But Pharah was only mortal._

_"I know, Faree. It took me a while to get used to it too. But I know how it was BEFORE, so that helps."_

_It only took a few seconds for Fareeha to add things up._

_"When did Reaper end up one of the Shimada's guinea pig? Before or after..." Fareeha masked her anger as frustration. "...that night?"_

_Night CVIII._

_"After~"_

_Fareeha suckered in one hell of a deep breath._

_" **How is he still.**..?"_

_"Alive? Tenaciousness. And one hell of a stubborn head." Angela lead Fareeha to the nearest elevator. "I had to melt Reaper's face off regularly in order to experiment on my research's longevity. It was the younger brother's idea. Turned out he hated the Shimada brothers as much as I did. Made him promise he'll drop some help from outside if I'll help him escape. He kept his word." they entered the lift, Angela swiped one of the key cards Gabriel had given her._

_"And I kept my promise. Helped him get a new face. Gave him back what the Shimada's stole from him. And I got my first ally. So they say."_

_Fareeha stayed silent. A thought just went through her head._

_Had she ended up one of the Shimada brother's prisoners... she would've seen Angela. Under not so pleasant circumstances. She didn't like criminals at the time. **At all.**  What would she have-? A little pat on her tattooed eye brought Fareeha back to Earth. "I know what you're thinking, Faree. And I assure you. Whether you would've met me before or after that... particular night," Mercy looked away, not wanting to remember those horrible days. "I would have made sure you would've escaped. Even at the cost of my life."_

_That was enough for Pharah. Squeezing her hand, she placed a soft kiss on Angela's wrist, waiting for the lift to reach destination._

_Mercy didn't say everything._

_One of Angela's recurring nightmares, especially after Fareeha became her lover, was to see her blank, former self torture the Egyptian in that horrible make shift lab the Shimada brothers created **just** for her. She used to wake up in a cold sweat every night, telling a worried Pharah that she was just having nightmares._

"Shh... I'm here... I'm right here... shhh..."

_Eventually, they all went away._

_Perhaps she could've seen Fareeha as nothing but one of the many pieces of walking scum she was forced to work with every day._

_Perhaps she could've imagined one of the Shimada brothers faces on her, inflicting much wanted revenge on the wrong ( **so, so wrong** ) person. _

_Mercy prayed every day that she will never know the answer to that scenario. That is why she still believed in fate, despite everything she had been through._

_They exited the lift._

_Angela asked Fareeha to stay a little behind. "I need to do something quick," Mercy playfully swatted Fareeha's prying hands away from her. "But I'll be right back." The rumble emerging from Pharah's chest and throat almost made Angela stay._

_"Later~"_

_She had an **old friend** to visit._

* * *

_Using a red key card, Mercy entered the sea-view suite._

_Loud TV noises could be heard. Oh. Her target was watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Whilst snorting coke. Figures._

**-PLEASE! TELL ME ABOUT THE FUCKING GOLF SHOES!!!!-**

_"What the-??"_

_Down goes the hacker. Broken glass and wood shatter as the doctor rabbit punched the woman straight onto the table._

_Picking up a loose tooth, Mercy left the room. "Be_ grateful _I left my piano wire in the car."_

_A pathetic whimper was all she got._

_After cleaning up a little (as some blood from that schlampe escaped on Mercy's outfit) she fluffed her coat up to encourage Fareeha smoothing it._

_It worked. It took everything for Angela to not let out a little purr as Pharah fixed her appearance quite slowly._

_"So... how was it? Did you meet your friend? How did it go?"_

_"Well..." she grabbed Fareeha's hand, guiding her through the hallway._

_"Turns out she was quite the sweet tooth."_

* * *

_They ended up in front of Reaper's vault. "Should we be here...?"_

_"Of course, Amari. **This** your birthday present."_

_As Fareeha gasped in pure glee, Angela tapped familiar numbers onto the keypad._

**1**   **2**   3

 **4**   **5**   **6**

7   8   9 

_"I keep telling him to change it. He's so predicable."_

_Pharah couldn't contain herself. "What is it? What is it, what is it, **what is it-**??"_

_"Patience, Faree," as they entered the vault. "You'll soon find out."_

_Angela looked back when Fareeha stayed silent. "This isn't going to be like last year right?"_

_A little sigh escaped Mercy. " **Honigbiene**. Are you wearing one of those boxers right now? Are they comfortable?" _ _Fareeha looked at anywhere but the fair headed crime lord, who let a quiet laugh out. "I take it as a yes, schatz?"_

_Poor Pharah had to nod, the maroon colour of her ears criminally matching her underwear's._

_The lights switched on when they entered the big garage._

_So many cars. So, **so, so, SO** **many**. _

_Mercy went in front of Fareeha, arms wide open. "Anyone, Faree. You can choose any car you like."_

_Pharah couldn't stop jumping around, seeing every single car. Angela enjoyed seeing her happy like this. This was a great way for Reaper to pay off his debt. "That one," Fareeha hopped on the spot, pointing towards a blood red Ferrari 488. She circled it at least three times. "I want that one!"_

_Angela extended her hand._

_"Then it's yours."_

* * *

_As they exited the building with Fareeha's new ride (the DB11 was already back to base through auto pilot) windows lowered, air all fresh, Angela gave her ~~love~~  squeeze another present. "You didn't have to, amar. This was more than enough."_

_"Nonsense. Open it."_

_When she could, Fareeha filled Ziegler up with even more kisses. Inside the box, there were driving gloves signed personally by a top Ferrari racer. She wore them immediately, filling Angela with both happiness and smug satisfaction._

_"They fit perfectly! Thank you so much, my baby blue~"_

_"Well, you did buy me those gloves signed by..."_

_"Angie?"_

_Angela placed a thumb on her tongue, aiming to wipe off a stain off Fareeha's cheek. "What the hell. Didn't I remove this from you before?"_

_"Angela? What are you talking about?" Fareeha fixed the centre mirror, wiping whatever Mercy was seeing with her sleeve._

_"Is it gone?"_

_"Yes."_

No.

_That's not how it went._

_"Thank you so much, my baby blue~"_

_"Anything for you. Happy birthday."_

That's better.

_They drove on, Angela looked at Fareeha. She looked so serene. At least that **stain** is gone now..._

_If she closed her eyes, it would be like they were back in Morocco, driving in the mountain pass of Dadès Gorges. Just the two of them..._

_After talking about everything and nothing, Fareeha stopped at a red light. The seashore was visible from the road._

_Which was completely deserted._

_"Faree. It's the middle of the night. No need to follow the rules." Fareeha casually stretched, straitening out her fingers together._

_Oddly distracting. "And this one takes FOREVER to change," Angela wasn't a whiner, but she really couldn't wait to go home. "Why did you-"_

_One arm smoothly draped over the passenger seat above Mercy's shoulders._

_And stayed there._

"... **Oh~** "

_Fareeha silently beckoned her partner in crime to come closer._

_"You talk too much, amar..."_

* * *

_After what felt like (blissful) hours, Fareeha stopped their make out session to look up towards the sky._

_"Oh, it's almost time-!"_

_"Mm. Come back here, liebchen~"_

_Fareeha opened the roof part of the car, letting the sea breeze wrap around them, holding tight as the wind rose._

_"Angel, c'mere~ You can't miss this!"_

_"I said come back here."_

_"I parked here on purpose! The view is spectacular!"_

_"Don't make me **order** you, Fareeha Amari."_

_Not that it worked all the time. Fareeha never had a leash, despite empty vessels calling her a 'guard dog', even when she was_ just _assigned as a bodyguard on paper. And Angela **loved her for that**._

_"Oh come on! Make me happy? Mm? Please?"_

_This woman will be the **death** of her someday._

_The irony of that statement did not escape the extraordinary doctor._

_Anglela watched alongside Fareeha, after she got up with Pharah's chivalrous help, as continuous cool breeze of early morning covered them like a delicate veil. As darkness started to get taken over by the light of the sun, Mercy noted the huge grey clouds in the distance._

_That did not look promising..._

_She indulged Pharah a little, saying three words only she got to hear. Her lover delicately kissed the crown of Mercy's head._

_"See... it wasn't **that** hard..." _

Mercy looked away at that nonsense.

It didn't go that way, despite her regrets.

_"I hate you."_

_Fareeha held Angela next to her, as warm, strong arms surrounded Dr Ziegler. "That hurt. I'd better call a doctor~"_

_Mercy had to roll her eyes to that, despite expecting it._

_Sunlight lit the sky, making the sea beyond gleam into blue and amber shades.The scent of the sea was calming, flaring in both mobster's perceptions._

_Angela let another chain weaken, staring at the Amari heiress. "Thank you."_

_Fareeha smiled. "For what, amar?"_

_Holding a calloused hand tenderly, Angela kept that hold firmly, enjoying the sensation of Fareeha's thumb rubbing against hers._

_"Thank you... for being here, Faree."_

With me.

_She let Fareeha encircle her into a romantic embrace. Leaning into her chest, Mercy sighed._

_If only this moment lasted forever..._

If only.

* * *

Mercy took one last puff from her finished smoke. It was a new moon that night.

The cigar was the one before the last. She stared at the dying flame as it went out by itself in an ashtray.

She can hear loud noises beyond the door. Everyone was gearing up for war. Fareeha and Zarya were still in Junkrat's clutches.

One last cigar.

Angela was transported to the room where they made love for the first time. Standing by the window, just like before.

* * *

 

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reaper's Vault code: 52416
> 
> CB!Mercy centric chapter! Tried to focus on the villains in love aspect of the Gangster AU this time. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7ogK_unbqM (Cab Calloway - Blues Brothers HQ version)
> 
> Anyone can guess what was up with Den's passcode? A cookie for who gets it right first! :-D (Hint: it's a song from 1974 - unofficially, it was the first rap song ever created before the genre exploded in the 1980s)
> 
> I just want to say: thank you so much for all of the (for the lack of a better word) attention you guys are giving to this story. First 1000+ views and over 100+ kudos? I feel really honoured. Thank you, everyone. *hugs* Thank you as well especially to SuperRisu. None of these wonderful Gangster AU fics would have happened if it weren't for you! *tips hat*
> 
> Trvia: Originally, Mercy was going to steal the Ferrari for Pharah (and Reaper would've gone NOT AGAIN) and they would've met the brat from Chapter 1 again by sheer coincidence. But I had to trim those scenes. Like Colt, I'm waay exhausted now. Plus this story is ever evolving. Did you know the final chapter is already done? Geez, this story. XD
> 
> (I'm stealing so much from FYEO you guys have NO idea. Can't wait to work on that one proper, too!)
> 
> And yes, the sweet tooth joke is totally a Bond pun. CB!Angela is just one white cat away from being a B.V. anyway.
> 
> EDIT: Oh, hi hi! I've got a Tumblr now! https://omghealthdrink.tumblr.com/ Hello hello! :-D
> 
> EDIT 2: The kissing ghost scene was a parody of this PxM fanart over here: https://tinyurl.com/ybgeyzy2


	6. Opera House - Metzger - Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the local opera leads to change between the crime boss and bodyguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING-
> 
> There is a dark part of the story in the Metzger section that needs the warning. 
> 
> What happens is implied, but just in case. You will know it when you'll see it.
> 
> Rainbows and sunshine reminder: Mercy thankfully isn't in that compound anymore.

"You called, boss?" Pharah entered the study room when allowed. Or, as Lucio, Mercy's chief gadgeteer calls it, the war room. She was sitting down on the far side, staring vigilantly towards the projector. "Alright, Doctor Ziegler. Let's get down to business," the bodyguard was ready for a new job. "What or who do I have to shake down, knock out, or blow up?"

The crime boss raised a remote. "The second one."

With one tap, the white wall was turned into a spiderweb of information.

Seven figures where highlighted on the screen.

The one in the middle connected them all.

Finally. A  **real**  job.

"This, is Leon Strauss. Former second in command of the deceased Yazuka boss, Hanzo Shimada. One of the few... _survivors_ of the Shimada massacre. Have you heard of him?" The dragon tattoo on his neck may have been scratched off. But the criminal's mug was enough to make Pharah recall his name within the underworld.

Pale blonde locks. Lantern jawline. More (tacky) tattoos than you can could count. One distinctive golden tooth.

"The White Snake. Schlange."

Mercy nodded.

"He found employment in the Swedish mafia now. Heard he's quite handsomely paid. So much so, he has no idea what to do with the money."

Another image. This time, co-ordinates were shown, various footage of monthly gambling games followed. "My sources have been tracking him for months. After three, we've discovered he always calls for a poker game, with six individuals on a monthly basis, methodologically on the twenty ninth."

Mercy called them out, one by one. Pharah made a mental projection of her own of all targets.

"...last by not least. Amanda 'Mimi' Amendola. Known as the Anaconda. Age 36. Knife expert, very efficient in martial arts," Mercy turned around, facing Pharah for the first time during the meeting. "I suggest you either knock senseless or kill this one first before the main target."

Red hair. Green eyes. Tat sleeves all over the place. One hell of a mole.

Must be Schlange's right hand woman.

Pharah was all for obeying the boss. But if she  **\- finally -**  had a real job, she had to at least know why.

He was related to the eliminated Shimada clan after all. "Has this man pissed us off in any way, boss...?"

For a moment, Fareeha thought Doctor Ziegler looked weary and tired. But then, she could swear the colour of her eyes changed.

"You do not have to perform this task. Completely optional. If you do, only the killing of Schlange is mandatory. Whether you spare or kill the rest is up to you."

Like when putting out fire with gasoline.

"Let's just say... he has it coming. Do you accept?"

∆ Refuse Job

□ Make a pun

O Mention Anubis

**X Impress Boss**

That was enough. Pharah did not make her bones at age eleven for nothing.

"So... time to shake the heat, then."

A crack of a smile escaped Angela's lips.

* * *

Three weeks pass.

The bells were ringing.

It was late at night. A lot of important guests were invited to the grand opening of the opera event hosting the Gibraltar Philharmonic Society.

The opera in question was a famous French play made by Georges Bizet.

A grey Mercedes parked in the vicinity. A tall, tanned woman emerged from the heavy duty vehicle, wearing a black tie. The tailored tuxedo and sharp, well shined black shoes showed she was dressed for the occasion. The gloved figure in question opened the back seat.

Two long, elegant legs belonging to a woman wearing some of the finest ivory jewellery money can buy exited the car, heels first, marking the pavement. After stepping over the used cigarette, the lady in white fixed her black coat covering both sides of her neck, the surrounds giving a chill breeze around them. The bodyguard followed the European woman in her late 30s by her side.

You can tell the other figure in black was a bodyguard by her imposing posture and authority oozing from it. She was not wearing an earpiece or special glasses. She didn't need them. She learn how to shoot and fight without depending on fancy gadgets.

Although her employer insisted she would wear a smartwatch made especially for her to use to complete assignments.

The bodyguard could've refused to use it.

She left the handkerchief that was beside the tux and the old, worn out shoes behind instead.

Pharah, the main heir to the arms dealing empire of the Amari crime syndicate, was not someone to mess with. Neither was the main head of the Amari family, despite her recent disappearance. The Eagle and Jackal's names made veteran mafiosi feel the rattle of death's chains cling around their necks with a single mention.

Like a shadow flawlessly following the owner, Pharah stayed by Mercy's side until she was ready.

Her boss, Dr Angela Ziegler, best known in the mafia circles by the name of Mercy, Angel of Death, hired her precisely for those reasons. Purse in hand, tied up hair (for a change) not having a single strand out of place, Mercy looked expectantly at the hired muscle. Pharah was wearing everything but the handkerchief. A look of disappointment was quickly replaced by a well worn mask made out of cold indifference.

"Shall we?"

Pharah gave one quick nod to the boss, having missed the previous glance.

"Follow me."

* * *

Yellow, red and brown.

These where the colours invading the two gangsters' sight, who were walking towards the horseshoe shaped theatre side by side.

Angela was an expected guest for the event. She did not want to be there. But it was not exactly an invitation that could be refused.

And wherever she went...

The crime boss showed the VIP pass for the both of them.

"Halt. We have to see if you are carrying anything that could be seen as a potential danger."

They frisked Mercy first. Nothing. Pharah still cannot believe this stupid, out dated behaviour from the British.

Inspecting a bodyguard. For  _weapons_.

"All clear. You may continue. Enjoy the evening, ma'am."

* * *

Mercy started talking to the patrons and the celebrity guests in the area, always ready to show politeness to the subjects that interest her. And indifference to what (and who) did not. Discussing about the opera and her hotel business when people spotted the owner of famous luxury hotels around the world, she was always the one to have the first and last word. Pharah meanwhile, stayed in the background, cautious but mencing.

"Doctor Ziegler!"

Mercy and Pharah turned towards the happy person in question.

"Should I intervene?"

"Not yet. I want to know who it is."

A Chinese figure came in the picture. Mercy let out a rare genuine smile. "Professor Xiaujo! What a pleasant surprise," They greeted each other like old friends would. "What makes you come back here in Gibraltar?"

"I'm like you, my dear old friend. Here to finally see and hear the rising theatre star, the great contralto Orisa, at least once in her lifetime." The professor gave a beaming smile, scratching her head. "At least I can say I've managed. You know how busy I am..."

As they talked about old times, Pharah noticed someone staring oddly at Mercy. He looked at her as if his face had a mix of curiosity and wonder. He looked harmless. But just in case... Pharah mentally prepared a profile in her mind concerning the pencil shaped moustached man.

She won't forget him now.

Judging by his clothes, posture and the way people are all gathered around him...

 **Ah.**  The maestro.

After excusing himself with the guests around him, the gentleman walked towards them, aiming straight for Doctor Ziegler.

He had to go through the black tower first.

"My cher, I know you are following orders..." His voice wavered, clearly intimidated by the bodyguard's impressive physique, hardened by a lifetime of nasty murders and crime related jobs. "But I merely wish to have a word with the lovely doctor you are guarding. Is that a problem...?"

Mercy finished her conversation with the lecturer on a good note, saluting the maestro with formal greeting. "Good evening, Mister Lacroix. A pleasure to finally meet you."

She offered him her hand. Gerard left a small peck on the gloved palm. "Enchanted, mademoiselle."

Deep, blue eyes flickered towards the bodyguard, a slight twitch on her lips. Pharah resumed doing her duty, getting closer to the French maestro. They continued their conversation in fluid French, for awhile. The Egyptian understood the conversation perfectly, but did not join in. She was not introduced to the conductor anyway.

Nor did she want to be.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle... I must ask you, it has been a nagging thought. Your name happens to be Angela Ziegler, n'est pas?"

Mercy gave a light nod. "That is correct, monsieur."

"You do not happen to be related to the same Doctor Ziegler from the infamous Yakuza attack, are you? The Nobel Prize winner?"

Any amusement Angela had with the conversation vanished with that sentence.

Gerard did not notice her stiffness, curiosity from before returning in his gaze. "Do forgive me if I'm being rude. But the resemblance is uncanny... they say that poor young doctor is still missing to this day, or so I heard. Do you know about it, madame? It has been awhile..."

Pharah was ready to intervene, but she had to listen to the boss' instructions first. Going straight for an attack would lead the Frenchman connecting the dots.

A smile showed up on Mercy's face, calming Pharah's stance.

It was fake. But there was no need to push the maestro away.

"Believe me, Mister Lacroix, you are not the first person to tell me that. No, I'm afraid I am not related to that poor girl. Although... I have heard of her story."

"That poor thing," the maestro shook his head in complete empathy. "How old was she...? Mid, early twenties...? Her work was incredible. A prodigy at such a young age. She had just started her life." The Frenchman did not mean to harm Angela. "To lose her like that to such vile criminals... that woman could've saved countless of lives by now."

Mercy didn't feel anything to that. Sadness, perhaps. But nothing else.

"Yes... she could've."

Pharah joined the conversation, manners be damned.

"Forgive the interruption, Doctor." She nodded towards Mercy, the Frenchman. "Maestro Lacroix. But I believe the opera will start soon."

Monsieur Lacroix checked his pocket watch, snapping it shut.

"Mais oui, of course you are right madame! Dear me, how time flies. Well... I enjoyed our conversation Doctor Ziegler. I hope you will enjoy tonight's performance. We shall leave you and your friend over here completely breathless tonight." He left on good terms, making an old fashioned curtsy towards both women. Gerard proceeded towards a tall, elegant woman who was completely dressed in white. She looked of Asian descent. "Ah, madame! Bon! You finally made it-!"

He continued the conversation in Japanese. They small talked about the weather and the upcoming performance. The teal haired damsel was carrying a well decorated violin case. It looked expensive. Her... very effeminate boyfriend? It looked like it. He stayed close to the violinist, looking at the fiddler as if she was his pride and joy.

Mercy leaned towards Pharah, looking at the direction of her cone vision. "That, is a woman. Pharah."

The bodyguard's stoic facade did not betray her surprise. But her eyes spoke for themselves.

"How can you tell, boss?"

"Cheek bone structure. You can tell right away if you're a good doctor. My profession has perks beyond prestige and pay."

A blush started creeping up on the guard's neck. Was... was that a joke?

Pharah was instantly reminded of the conversation they had a few hours prior...

* * *

_She arrived at the penthouse, giving that blasted bird the boss cared for a chocolate chipped cookie it did not deserve._

_"Fareeha! Cookie?"_

_But at least that shuts it up. Two quick taps on Mercy's door. "You may enter."_

_"You called, boooaaa...?"_

_All of Fareeha's expectations flew out of the window. She'd have to be blind and dead **and blind**  to not admit that her boss, Angela Ziegler, was a beautiful woman. Despite her very cold exterior. But the way that sleek ivory suit fitted her like a tailored glove..._

_The boss cleared her throat, wearing her crystal blue earrings._

_"Are you done staring, Pharah? We have a play to attend to, need I remind you."_

_That statement made Pharah go back to guard mode. But not before letting an unfiltered comment out, risking a little._

_"It suits you."_

_Mercy, with long, thick blonde hair still loose against her shoulders, stiffened. She gave one, icy stare at the guard._

_"It... suits me?" The boss stared towards the mirror incredolously. "Did you just say my suit... suits me?"_

_Pharah was ready to apologise, even though it felt like grovelling. For Ana's sake..._

_Wait. Was that a **smile**? Nah. She must have-_

_Mercy let out a small laugh, repeating what Pharah said merely a few moments ago._

_Pharah couldn't decide if she had to be annoyed or offended by that reaction._

_Like it came, it went. Mercy went back to business._

_"Remember you have a job to complete during the play. We're not going there for simple leisure."_

_The bodyguard nodded. "Understood, boss."_

_"I called you to pick up the items on my desk. They are for you to use. Only the tuxedo and shoes are obligatory from the inventory."_

_Okay. Enough. She is not a child._

_"I think I can dress for myself."_

_Mercy continued as if she didn't hear Pharah's statement. "This is a black tie, formal event. Your suits are in need of dry cleaning coincidentally. And **you**  are going with  **me**." Mercy walked straight to the Egyptian, one finger prodding into her chest in a commanding manner. "You will be dressed appropriately tonight. Believe me, they will be useful."_

_Sighing, the former soldier picked up the package the boss told her about. "Is there anything else...?"_

_The boss returned to her hair, looking for light coloured hair pins. "Just that. I will be done in thirty minutes. Be sure to be in the car by then."_

_One salute and a quick click from Pharah's shoes._

_"Yes boss."_

* * *

_Fareeha looked at the note Lucio left with his equipment._

_A new smartphone. Nice shoes. Oh, that will come in handy. The tux isn't that bad, honestly..._

_Fareeha let out a low whistle as she fixed the fancy black tie. She stared at the handkerchief. There was Mercy's symbol on it. Folding it, she placed it in a sleeve, intending to take it with her to the apartment later. No need to have that on tonight. Opening a small velvet box, Pharah started attaching a pair of golden cuffs, representing the boss' sigillo._

_Shame she'll have to remove them later._

* * *

_Mercy waited until the Egyptian closed the door before a rare, beautiful smile emerged between her and the mirror. That was the first pun Pharah made since becoming her bodyguard. Angela fixed the winged shaped white gold cufflinks, pins in mouth._

_Her previous worries temporary gone._

_"It suits me..."_

* * *

Mercy and Pharah found their seats, boss sitting down first. The bodyguard stayed beside her by obligation, for the time being.

The lights around the stage were still switched on. She stared at her jet black watch. It was soon time.

"Pharah."

The bodyguard observed thoughtfully. The boss was testing the theatre glass given to them before entering their stall. The auditorium was beautiful. They had a good location to enjoy the spectacle.

"You are not wearing the handkerchief."

An elegant eyebrow was raised to that. "Is that important?" Pharah smiled. "I've seen others without theirs-"

A gloved hand was raised in her direction. It contained a single, black handkerchief. Mercy did not break away from the glasses. "I do not care about the others. You are with  _me_. You need to dress appropriately. Wear it."

Pharah did not miss the lingering touch of the boss' hand this time, but pretended not to notice.

She was on duty. "If you insist, boss."

Making one fold, the handkerchief was placed at the front of the tuxedo. It did clash a little, black against black.

The lack of any emotion on Mercy's face made Pharah frown a little.

She looked back at the watch. Pharah had to go. The poker game she wasn't invited to had just started.

"Pharah."

The bodyguard stopped, looking back at the seated woman. She lowered the fancy spectacles.

"Do come back in one piece."

Was that... concern? "If I don't, I'll be out of a job," Pharah smiled. "Be back in twenty."

Mercy almost smiled back. But it didn't last long. She had a bad feeling growing in the pits of her stomach since the beginning of the day. As if something bad was going to happen. She was just being paranoid. She was just being paranoid.

The conversation she had with the conductor was still fresh in her mind. To be reminded of  _those_  days like that.

It was already bad enough his name was Gerard...

* * *

The lights begun to fade. Formal introductions and gratitude to the production crew started to unfold.

"May we present you, Maestro Lacroix-!"

The Asian woman from before was ahead of the first row. The warm up of all songs started to play. She did not.

Angela had a slight suspicion as to why the dark blue eyed violist remained silent. Considering the violin case...

As the audience applauded, the feeling of anxiety in the crime boss did not leave.

That was never a good sign.

* * *

Fareeha looked at her surroundings.

She was now outside of the theatre, having reached the rooftops from the window of the main restroom.

Which was quite fancy. It even had nice face towels and all. Pharah reminded herself to steal one for record purposes later.

One minute was passed to enjoy the light breeze in the air, preparing herself mentally and physically for what was next.

_Hey. The city is almost tolerable from up here._

Less polluted too.

* * *

The play finally started, the orchestra making the relevant cues through the conductor's guidance.

The guards were waiting for their shift to end, the two main characters met and started their conversation.

Mercy was enjoying it so far. It was a good distraction. Until she looked to her left, at Fareeha's empty seat.

"Not you. What are you doing here."

"Is that how you talk to a dear old friend?"

As the play kept going, Angela glared at the intruder. "Every time  **you**  show up, something bad happens."

"You know that is just coincidence. If anything, I'm here for your safety. And it has been awhile since I last saw you." As Jose arrived with the new guard, the stranger looked towards the actors. "Nice trick you did there with the handkerchief. Next time though, leave lipstick on it. Maybe she would've spared you the excuse."

Mercy lifted her theatre glasses, not wanting to listen to what the intruder was saying.

"I'm just saying."

The skies were looking grey. Thunder echoed in the distance.

Fareeha reached a red coloured rooftop.

Placing one finger on her tongue, she checked the wind's direction.

North east.

And considering they were south, judging by the smartwatch's app...

Mentally checking the theatres location from there, Fareeha looked ahead. "I gotta go this way."

In case something went wrong, she had to leave her tracks uncovered till that landmark. But now it was a different story.

Back at the play, the cigar girls were heavily debating with the young men.

_"Regardez..."_

_"Là bas..."_

_"Elle est belle..."_

_"Gitan... c'est le gitan..."_

Fareeha reached her destination.

She was at the outskirts of a worn out hotel, looking at two sides from a safe hiding spot.

The murmurs between the crowd and the audience started growling, until they both came to a halt.

With a flick of a wrist, the maestro tapped his white baton twice towards the musical sheet, getting all of the orchestra's attention.

To the left, there was no one, as scheduled. To the right, a growing hum of noise and foggy cigarette smoke emerged from the right window. A camera turned slowly on the left side, aimed squarely for both entrances. Fareeha could've used her new toy to disable the camera.

But that won't make the job more fun. After all, it doesn't feel like work...

When you so thoroughly enjoy it.

Timing the camera's rhythm right, Pharah aimed to make a leap of faith. Towards the left window.

First the front row of cellos. They kept growing rapidly in a crescendo. Then the first row of violins. They made one note, staying on the lowest possible, raising in volume, without overtaking the first instruments. The fiddlers in the second row helped accompany the slow, building tempo, as the Asian woman prepared herself.

The French conductor pointed towards the sole violinist at the front, pride clearly showing towards his own prodigy.

Ah. Angela guessed right. The musician somehow came into possession of a Lipinski Stradivarius...

The teal haired woman in question made one, single note, higher than all the rest, matching the cellos, as all instructed instruments made their own concerto. The conductor introduced beat subdivisions as it it were nothing, every slight gesture dictating the downbeat and upbeats waves of the beautiful music. This kept going until only the cellos and the Stradivarius were the only notes filling the theatre's auditorium.

Fareeha entered the room through the open window, careful about the camera's blind spot.

All lights went out, in a curtain of darkness. Maestro Gerard timed the silencing of the orchestra to perfection, one hand snuffing it out like a candle. A woman dressed completely in red was the only person visible in the whole theatre.

It was the perfect atmosphere to murder someone.

The bodyguard had all night to complete this jaunt. But she liked to time herself. Never leaving her fate to chance. She remembered Mercy's instructions when it came to the smartwatch. The laughter, swearing and rumble from the other side was audible through the paper thin walls.

The red button on the side was ignored. She placed a timer on the watch.

Ten minutes.

 

More than enough.

 

Arms carve in air. The famous Habanera starts.

The Juilliard trained opera singer started to sing her beautiful and much anticipated melody, purity flowing through her voice.

 _-"L'amour est un oiseau rebelle_  
_Que nul ne peut apprivoiser~"-_

The two women absorbed the spectacle, as the opera singer kept awing her audience, in a Watsonian and Doylist manner.

"She is too dignified to be Carmen."

The lady to the right shook her head. "Speak for yourself. I enjoy this interpretation. It is new."

The one on the left placed a hand on her chin. "We agree to disagree."

Fareeha wore the green vest, leaving the expensive tux and handkerchief neatly folded on the floor. On the cleanest surface Pharah could (somehow) find. Her disguise was complete. She looked exactly like a hotel attendant from the two star building.

At least she planted one of her size.

Mercy's mobile started vibrating. Reluctantly lowering the binoculars, she almost groaned at the sender's name.

_> Hellooo my old friend. You haven't paid all your dues yet~_

"Answer back. She won't leave you alone if you don't."

The crime boss did not feel like blabbering in the air.

_> I already have._

_> Well, yes. But I want more than the usual loot for the Schlange sting. I mean, I deserve it, no?_

_> Do not threaten  **me** , Sombra._

_> Oh no I'm not. Anything but. Madama An-gel-a. Just remember..._

Mercy switched the mobile's screen off, not bothering to read Sombra's message.

_> I will want a **real**  reward next time. For treating you right~_

The bodyguard walked towards the bathroom, gun pointing towards a cheap painting mounted on the wall.

The opera singer was presently only backed up by the pedal harpist and her performance.

Even without the backing instruments, it carried the play all by itself.

Under the sink.

Behind the towel rack.

Beneath the toilet flush.

The room is never visited by clientele of the hotel due to it containing a crime that was never solved. They say the area was still haunted by the previous guests. If they were here somewhere, they must've checked out.

The violins start building up, as the maestro mutes the sounds of the main orchestra as if they were under water.

Until an index finger is raised out, music pours forth.

Set up muzzles.

One silencer, one suppressor.

Insert clips.

Rafa and Eadala were back in business.

Pharah removed the painting from its place. Behind it, a well drilled hole. She studied the table on the other side carefully.

Six gamblers were around the gaming floor, somehow playing their high valued chips and money through a sickeningly thick veil of smog. "There must be a mistake," groans and raspy laughter emerged from the pit, "My payout's too high!"

The red haired woman was there. Playing the high stakes poker game. So were the rest.

But not the target.

Fareeha told Ziegler she'll return in twenty minutes.

Ten have already passed. No time to waste, even if she would've preferred a clean job. Time is of essence.

She'll have to lure Schlange out. Plan B.

_-"L'amour! L'amour!"-_

Contrasting deeply with the provocative, sensual lyrics, the chorus represented the audience's awe towards the gypsy.

_-"L'amour! L'amour!"-_

Aiming for the adjoined door, Pharah missed an eight foot tall man passing by the table game for just one minute, tenderly ruffling bright red hair on his way to the toilet. Picking the lock with a thin tool, raspy swearing in Portuguese came through the locked door. "Moleeeeey~"

The bodyguard felt a little unsettled, but ignores the feeling.

As the Stradivarius accompanied the singer's beautiful melody, Mercy quietly enjoyed the visual and audible spectacle on display.

The handle made a satisfying click, catching a groove, indicating it was now open.

The gamblers were too busy with the game, embarrassing the only woman amongst them to notice.

Putting the tools aside, Pharah studied the austere table one more time. She could see Schlange's distinctive platinum hair at the far edge.

She exited the room through the main door, leaving it slightly opened.

Two, loud knocks on the white door.

"I'll get it."

Green eyes shone through the spy hole.

"Who are  **you**? How long have you been there-?"

It was the woman.

"Room service."

"We didn't order-"

Good enough.

**\- bang -**

A swarm of blue and black surrounded the red woman, love and lust oozing from all the guards' affections.

Except for one. The only guard who held Carmen's heart.

_-"Si tou ne m'aimes pas,_

_Si tou ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime~"-_

Fareeha dashed back into her room, locking the brown door as fast as she could. She peeped through the drilled hole one last time.

"What the fuck-?"

"Someone shoot us!"

**"BOSS! THEY GOT MIMI-!"**

All six people on the other side were too busy moving Mimi's corpse out of the way. Thinking her killer was still facing the door.

 **"FIRE!**   **SHOOT THAT FUCKING DOOR DOWN-!"**

As the former players emptied all their ammo towards the entrance, Fareeha went a few feet towards the connecting (and unlocked) door.

Placed one foot firmly ahead of her.

Taking only Eadala out from the holster.

Pharah took one step back. Whole body pointing towards the one barrier between her and all targets.

As she waited for the signal.

**\- click -**

**\- click -**

**\- click -**

**\- click -**

**\- click-**

**\- click-**

There it is.

And charged with all her might.

Leaving dust behind, only one thought was on her mind.

**RUN.**

The door came crashing down like wet, tissue paper.

**"WHAT THE-?"**

Eadala firmly in the air, adrenaline rushing in her veins, six bullets pierced through the room.

Six targets.

Six head-shots.

By the time their bodies reached the ground, they were already dead.

Discarding the heated cartridges of both guns, the bodyguard let out a satisfied smile, taking time to refill the rotating chambers.

"Too easy."

The maestro's presence was translated though the flautists, clarinets and tambourines accompanying the contralto's pleasantly refined voice. The control and mastery of said voice matched the atmosphere and tempo of the play itself. Carmen was now attempting to seduce the only man she couldn't captivate.

Angela looked to her right. That was the third time she looked at her watch.

"She's taking too long."

Annoyed with herself, she looked elsewhere. "Stop being sentimental."

The woman to her left gave her a long, scrutinising stare.

_'I'm you.'_

Letting out her frustrations through a sigh, Mercy raised her theatre glasses once more.

Placing the Eagle XIX back into its place, Fareeha walked over the dead bodies and used FAMAS G1s, poking the main target's face with her well shined shoes. "Schlange, Schlange. Schlange," his golden tooth went well with her shoe. Pharah couldn't help but sneer. "Get up. You'll be late for school."

A sudden sound came flying through the air. Fareeha instantly moved away from the bullet's trajectory.

It was aimed for her heart. Instead, it cut through her right shoulder until it met the bone, staying there.

**"FUCK-!"**

Aiming Eadala to the attacker, Fareeha did not expect who was in front of her.

"Cutthroat Bill-?"

Eight foot tall. Monstrous appearance. Rat like face. Metal jaw.

A belt alongside suspenders-?

"The fuck are  **you**  doing here-?"

The answer was in the rat faced man's reaction towards a certain red haired corpse.

The firearm dropped on the floor. Bill's reaction was of one who attempted to take his own life.

And failed.

**"MIMI-!"**

He ran over towards Mimi, completely ignoring Fareeha's flabbergasted reaction.

Cradling the woman's bleeding face in a comforting manner, the man placed her forehead against his, barely managing to hold in tears.

No one should suffer that kind of pain, no matter their background. Fareeha cursed herself, despite the pain searing in her own shoulder.

Had she knew about this, she might've been a little more patient with the poker game and shot only Schlange through the hole, as originally planned. Maybe used Rafa on the woman to stun, not shoot her through the eye as bait.

Could've. Buts. What ifs.

You cannot afford to have regrets in this line of work. Fareeha's main regret was not knowing of the extra person in the area before it was too late. It would've avoided a lot of shit for the both of them.

"You've got to be **fucking kidding me**."

At that moment, it was best to remain silent.

The second Pharah spoke, Bill raised his head, still holding the woman's face tenderly with both hands.

Anger. Grief. Sorrow.

Pure, unadulterated  **rage.**

Taking the Anaconda's unused Randall 18 out from its sheet, Cutthroat Bill went straight for Pharah's throat.

Despite emptying both beloved firearms into him.

The raging bull did not go down.

**"FUUCK-!"**

As Carmen's love kept ignoring her, Mercy started to get worried.

But didn't show it.

_'I think we're wasting precious time staying here, no?'_

Carmen brought out her famous orange, throwing it in the air.

"Pharah knows how to do her job. She will be fine."

All enamoured guards reached out for it. Carmen picked it before hitting the ground up like it was nothing, teasing them further.

_'Since when do **you**  use the third person to delude yourself?'_

Mercy glared at her former self.

_'I thought you won't let anyone stop you from getting what you want?'_

Angela glared back with the same ferocity.

_'Or was that a lie?'_

Mercy lied down against her seat, defeat clearly in her eyes.

Five more minutes.

That was all the extra time she was giving Fareeha.

The crime boss turned to her wrist watch, waiting until the minute hand reached the 12 point.

Pharah manged to block Cut's frenzied knife attack, disarming him of the weapon far as possible.

She still had to get rid of his clammy hands choking her throat, who slammed the Egyptian up and down against the floor in an attempt to stun.

"In - my - defen - ce - you - shouldn't - be - herrrree-!"

With a quick movement, Fareeha moved her lower body to direct her free foot towards the attacker's ribs.

Cut let go in agony, as the blade from the newly acquired shoes pierced right through unsuspecting flesh.

Fareeha couldn't celebrate victory for long.

_**That just made him angrier.** _

Taking advantage of Pharah's injury, Bill grabbed Fareeha from the right shoulder, pulled her arm upwards.

And with quick, rapid precision, dislocated it savagely.

Too stunned with pain, Pharah couldn't stop Bill from him throwing her towards the nearest, hardest object.

The betting table.

Pharah tried getting back on her feet, but Bill did not give the Egyptian any chances.

**"This is for Mimi-!"**

A cracking, whooshing noise was heard in the air.

**\- WUH - PSSSH -**

Fareeha felt tough leather surround her throat. "Shit, so that's **wwwh-eraghh-!"**

As Bill kept pulled the belt upwards to choke Pharah to death, he only had one thing to say.

**"DIE! DIE! DIEEEEEEE-!"**

Using his weight to pin down the soldier, Bill had one foot on the injured shoulder, the other on Fareeha's left foot.

The right foot was free, but uselessly so in that condition.

Pharah started to see black spots around her vision.

She could see Anaconda's knife a few inches away from her.

**FUCK! I NEED THAT-!**

Pharah lunged for it, blood pounding through her whole being. Bill responded by lifting the belt around her neck more towards him. Not noticing the knife of his beloved being merely a few meters away from her killer in his quest for revenge.

**"DIE-!"**

Mercy got up from her chair. The play will keep going with or without her.

Angela looked at her own Rolex.

 _'One hundred and eighty seconds.'_  A light, satisfied smirk was seen on her former self. _'A new record.'_

The door was slammed shut, the only noise indicating Mercy's leave in the vicinity.

_I... I can't make it..._

Many people say you see your life flash in front of you as you are near death.

All what Pharah was seeing, feeling and hearing right then was the want of having this  **MOTHERFUCKER OFF HER HOWEVER POSSIBLE.**

The lunge for the knife started to lessen.

A silver cane was now on the side of Fareeha's sight.

A painfully familiar one.

مستعد دائماً

**Always Prepared.**

Following the family motto engraved on it in Arabic, scarlet eyes met only one. One eye that was neither forgiving or lenient.

**"A-Ana-!"**

Her mother's eye saw Fareeha on the ground, pinned down by a muscle soldier.

_You are a disgrace._

Gritting her teeth, Pharah held back the pain.

Used the free foot as leverage.

And lunged for the knife one last time.

Grabbing the Randall 18, Fareeha plunged the sharp blade deeply into the nearest foot she could find.

**"ARRRRRRGH-!"**

Using the knife handle as balance, Fareeha used her now two free legs to sandwich the ratman's metal jaw.

And ground grappled the bastard.

"UUUURGH-!"

Carmen's melodical laughter could still be heard in the distance, as Mercy opened the restroom window quickly.

Now Pharah was the one choking Bill with her feet, Mimi's knife still deep into one of his own.

**"How does it feel like, eh-?"**

Pharah knew he wouldn't stay on the ground for long.

As Cut got up to fight, despite the foot square on his throat, Fareeha turned to make a powerful roundhouse kick.

Her foot landed on the jugular, shoe knife and all.

**"AAAAAAARGH-!"**

"You didn't let me finish-! How does it feel to have a knife  **plunged into you? Must be fucking ironic, don't you think Cut-?"**

Pharah pulled the weapon out of Cutthroat Bill's throat. He finally went down to his knees. One hand on the spraying blood coming from his neck, failing to keep the struck vein from leaking blood, the other reaching out for his lover one last time.

"M-... **Mi...Mi... mi...** " Down he goes.

Adrenaline now decreasing from her system, Fareeha finally realised she had a dislocated shoulder.

And a bullet within it.

And lots of blood loss around her.

Fareeha fell softly against the nearest wall, holding onto her shoulder for dear life, realising her mother's cane was still there.

But Ana was gone.

Instead, a bad omen was perched on the handle of the sliver cane, hooting softly. Turning it's head into full rotation to face Pharah, its one, red eye looked straight into the wounded bodyguard. "Come to pick me up... just like last time..." Sight started to fade. She pressed a red button on the smartwatch's edge. At least, like this, someone will give Ana's coffin company. "Just... like last time..."

The last thing Fareeha saw before fading into unconsciousness was the sight of crystal blue eyes, brilliant as the infinite sky.

The conductor finished the piece with a low murmur from the violin row's ending notes.

The tracks stopped here.

Mercy reached a red coloured rooftop. A light drizzle started falling from the sky.

Placing one finger on her tongue, she checked the wind's direction. North west.

And considering they were south, judging by the theatre's location...

**\- beep beep -**

Mercy raised her smartphone, indicating a signal.

_'Oh no. She never used it before.'_

Mercy looked upwards. "This makes things easier."

Mercy started running towards the signal's location, practically gliding towards her destination.

She had to hurry.

* * *

A low, peaceful hum of silence was all that could be heard. As Mercy entered the hotel through the left window, she was careful of any stray pieces of glass and furniture clearly thrown from the adjourning door.

Which was clearly busted open, barely clinging onto its broken frame with one inch of wood. Mercy spotted Pharah's clothes piled neatly into a corner of the room, thankfully placed away from the debris. Angela brought a small, black baton out of her purse, pressing a button.

The pole expanded on both sides, turning the weapon into swallow blade, giving the staff a double scythe effect.

As she slowly moves towards the open door, Angela checked her surroundings.

It was too quiet.

The stench of blood and death was everywhere. Mercy skipped the open door, opting to see if anyone was hiding in the bathroo-

_'Oh no.'_

She saw right before. Fareeha was lying down on the floor, a pool of blood encircling her body.

Retracting the blades, Mercy ran towards the Amari heiress, keeping the extended staff firmly in her palm.

"Fareeha-!  **No.**  Tell me I'm not too late..."

Angela placed one hand swiftly on Fareeha's wrist, loosening her grip on Rafa. Placing two fingers between the bone and the radial artery, she counted. It was faint. But the heart beat was there.

Mercy let out a deep breath, not knowing she was holding it. _Thank heavens._

Following the marks of blood, Angela exposed part of Pharah's shoulder, revealing its state. In order to save Fareeha properly, Mercy had to either extracting the bullet or fix her shoulder. The environment around Pharah was too filthy to operate.

Rearranging the dislocated shoulder wins. The sooner they left this suffocating room, the better. She knew his corpse was there somewhere. Fareeha started to waken, giving much needed relief. "Pharah..." Mercy coaxed the guard gently, as their eyes met.

"It's okay... I'm here now."

"Uuuurgh..." Pharah had to explain what happened. "Bastard just... won't die..."

Bastard? She must mean Sch- "Him?" Mercy stared at the odd one out, who was facing downwards. "What is  **he**  doing here?"

"Fuck... fuck if I know..." She'll have to tell everything to the boss later. At that moment... Fareeha felt like utter shit.

Do come back in one piece.

**You are a disgrace.**

_I..._

_I..._

_I'm such a fucking **failure**._

"I need you to relax," Mercy went back into doctor mode, mistaking Pharah's pained expression for exhaustion. "Don't faint on me now. The shock will be less painful for the body like that..." She placed a soft side of the baton towards Pharah's mouth. "I need to reach for your opposite shoulder and push. This will hurt. Will you cooperate with me?"

Wordlessly, Pharah nodded, agreeing to all Mercy's instructions.

"One... two..."

Pharah bit the bullet down through the staff when Mercy popped the shoulder back into its place. Pain and relief went through the Egyptian. Using the black handkerchief she picked up in place of her own purse, Mercy started wiping blood and sweat away from the former soldier's face and newly fixed shoulder.

Fareeha closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation left by the cool hanky strokes.

"Now... don't make any sudden movements, your body just went through a big shock. You have lost a lot of blood too. I'll help you get back up."

No need to argue with that. Like Mercy, Pharah wanted to leave the blasted hangout rotting in memory lane.

"Understood boss."

"There you go," from the back, the spirit of the presumed dead rose. "It wasn't so hard, wasn't it..."

An eight foot tall man towered behind Mercy, a Randal 18 dripping with blood glued to his hand.

**"Angela-!"**

Mercy immediately turned around. Instinctively, a knife slid down from her sleeve, pointed it at her target, and released.

Another sharp dagger was quickly thrown.

**"ARRRRRRGH-! MY FUCKING EYE-!"**

Mercy was quick to reach for a flash bomb... until she took a good look at her opponent. Eyes widening, the bomb dropped on the floor unused. Now she recognised him. He was one of her -many- patients.

From a long time ago.

Cutthroat Bill also recognised Mercy. With the only functioning eye he had left.

Mouth gaping wide, in a panicked attack, Bill instinctively went for his metal jaw, vividly remembering what he went through because of the Shimadas.

Because of their assistant.

Because of the doctor.

_**Because of...** _

"Met... Met...  **Metz... Metzg**..."

Mercy looked down. Her hands where now full of blood. She'd recognise that blood anywhere.

No.

**No.**

_**No...** _

_I don't want to go back... **no... no...**_

"Angela-!"

The sharply blue eyed woman started having heaved breaths, accidentally seeing the corpse of her torturer. The sharp, tight, rat like features of the well built (and torn apart) killer and the scratched dragon mark on Schlange's neck made Angela's vision become more life like, as she kept staring at the tainted hands.

"Boss!" Not even Pharah's voice could save her this time.  **"Boss-!"**

 

_"Angela! **Don't look up-!"**_

_"Run! Safe yourself-!"_

_"He's just a boy-!"_

_**"Mommy!"** _

_"You made us do this."_

_"No more..."_

_"Let her go!"_

_"Schlange. Release him."_

_"...tonight, during the ceremony, Doctor Angela Ziegler, Age 22, was kidnapped by the Yakuza..."_

_"This is one **hell**  of a party!"_

_"Don't move! Or we'll shoot your **precious**  winner!"_

 

_"Don't look up, Angela-!"_

_-_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**"Don't look up-!"** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_-_

_Where there was once order, there was chaos._

_In the ceremonial hallway, gun shots and screams were everywhere. A young woman tried moving two people, urging them to get up. She had managed to escape one of the Yazuka main leaders. If she ran away, she'd be safe... but not without her parents._

_**"Mama! Papa!"** _

_"Run... Angela..."_

_As she clung onto them, wanting to run away with them, the doctor's beloved parents could barely speak. "Save... yourself...RUN!"_

_The young doctor raised her hands towards herself, not wanting to see her cherished family expire before her. She had seen enough death._

_But if they escaped, and had help-! "No... NO! **I WON'T LEAVE WITHOUT YOU-!"**_

_The remaining defence tried to put down the running gunman, but there were too many skillful shooters outnumbering the police force._

_"There you are!"_

_A harsh pull made Angela take three steps back, taking her away from her dying parents._

_"Don't move! Or we'll shoot your **precious**  winner!"_

_Her father bellowed as hard as his strength allowed._

_"Let her go!"_

_Platinum hair._

_A dragon tattoo on his neck._

_One, distinctive golden tooth._

_"Where are **you** going? This is one  **hell**  of a party! And you're our special guest of honour, Doctor Ziegler...!"_

_"Let me go-!"_

_"Oh yes. Family ties can hurt."_

_**\- bang -** _

_**\- bang -** _

_Angela's screams filled the air until there was nothing left, bloodied hands reaching out for them._

_"Now, **now** , Herr Doctor. We've released you from any extra duties. Shouldn't you be happy about that?" A gun pointed on Angela's temple. "Now. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way." Biting down onto his arm, Angela ran away as fast as she could. Until the second Shimada brother showed up before her._

_Cold, piercing blue eyes stared back at her._

_And a sharp, sudden strike of pain went through her head._

_"...the easy way."_

_-_

'...tonight, during the ceremony, Doctor Angela Ziegler, Age 22, was kidnapped by the Yakuza mob...'

_Angela woke up to that news stream, flickering through an old fashioned TV screen on the left side of the room._

_There was a tied up man in front of her. Mid to late fifties._

_She recognised him. Wasn't he the famous missing doctor from ten years ago...?_

_It was then she realised._ _Her hands._

_Legs._

_And mouth._

_They were all tied up to a chair. Angela mirrored the poor man perfectly, complete with terror in their eyes._

_"Ooooh, look Boss. They're both awake. Can I start?"_

_A cold, chilling voice echoed through the speakers._

_'Proceed.'_

_**"Alright..."** _

_Schlange sat down on a loose chair, turned it backwards, and sat again in between the prisoners. "Alright Doctor Brown. Looks like your shift is finally over. Boss told me I can release you. I kept telling you he was a generous man, did I." The elder doctor started to cry. Angela noted he had several missing fingers from both of his hands, his entire body was trembling. "Now, now Doctor... there's no need for such a commotion. I'm sure we'll meet again someday."_

_He pointed his gun to the doctor's temple._

_"But don't take **my**  word for it."_

_**\- bang -** _

_As maniacal laughter took over the room, Angela tried to loosen the ropes from her wrists, tears flowing down from the brutal execution._

_Schlange removed exactly one rope off her with a sharp knife, leaving a scratch mark haphazardly._

_The one holding her mouth._

_"You do NOT want my boss to say those words towards you, Herr Doctor. I'm telling you this because **we want to keep you**."_

_She said nothing._

_"Pretendng to be mute?" He squashed her face. "Watch it. I'm not as patient as my boss. Ooor his brother, who doesn't pay me."_

_Remembering her parents reach out for each other before they died, Angela had two words to say to her captors._

_**"FUCK YOU-!"** _

_A powerful kick landed squarely on Angela's face. This stunned her enough from talking._

_" **Shut** **up** **you fucking**  _ **WHORE.** _YOU THINK I'M GOING TO GO EASY ON YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A WO-"_

'Schlange.'

_The mobster raised his head lazily towards the speaker._

_'Remember what I told you.'_

_He raised his arms, hoping to incite forgiveness from his leader. "Clear, boss. I know. Precious asset, yes, yes... but... **she made me do it.** "_

_Despite being tied down, beaten up, and with no where to go or even knew her present location, Angela still looked up to Schlange in the eye, deep blue orbs challenging him with a trace of defiance. "Ooooh, fiesty, are we? Like I said, we're aiming to keep you doc. You will do great things for us, I assure you..."_

_He walked towards a lever. "But if you don't follow our instructions carefully... just remember."_

_The golden tooth gleaned sickeningly in the poorly lit room._

_"You made us do this."_

_From the lever, sparks of purple and blue started emerging like rapid, starving snakes._

_Connecting straight with Angela's chair and the dead man's._

_̯̺͉̱̼͠_  
_̴̗̳S̵͓̹̰̖̤u͉b̯͉̲̝̫j̘̯e̞̪c͇̞t̡͓̥̰ ̙̖͎̖262.̤̥̺͉̥̼̙.̗͖.̙͝_  
_͏̪_  
_̮̹̞͉̼W̭e ͎̜̠̹̘d̼͓̣̠͜o͇ ͖̠͍̰͙͠ͅn҉̱̻͖̺o̤̯͉̲t̶̖̝̯̤̘̤ ̵n̷͓̝̝̬ͅe҉̮̗̦͚͎͚ͅe̲̞͔d̞͈͇͙ ͍e̖̜m̪͞p̧̲̮͈̤̤h̭̭̥̰a̝̼̯̗̰̦̬ti͚̼͎̲̞c̲̪ ̣̦̪͈̻d͈̤o̷c͏̺t̸̲̖͈̠̪o̳̰͙̗̪̟͝ṟ͎s̬͈͝ ͘h̵͈ͅer̠͙͖͟ͅe͖̖͈͚̤.͕̩̠͡_  
_̹̥̞̣̹̦͘_  
_̻̣͇̼̰͟H̡͚͎̟e͕̭͈̰̙̻͎'̵̹s̛̪ ̴̜͓͈̪j͉̰u̷͔͕̙̤s͖̝̳̝̮͝t̰̪̬͢ ͝a̺̼̜̲̺͠ ̯bo̩͓̫̱ͅy͙̝̝̙!̡̜̤̹̭̻̗_  
_̩̲͔̪̭̪͉_  
_͖̩̗̳̮͍͟H̜̼̖͉̥̝i̜s̺͍͎͇͚̞͍ ̡͚̼pa̱͍̱̥͇̤r̴̻͚̝̳͕̘e̸̮̻͍̪ͅnt̯̞̭̹ͅͅs҉͚͖ ̩̮̦̬̩r͟e̦͓fu̱͇̞̦͚̞s̳̳̜e̶͕d͏̺͖̗ ̱̗͎ͅt̟o͇̯̖̬̻ p̛̤̜a͇̟͔͚̬̰͔y̺̭̖.̵̬̣̘̘͈ ͏͈̫_  
_̵̖̳̹͙_  
_͜Ṟ̜͍͓͖̰e̜̝̞̻̯f̬̹͔̠̺ͅư̰̩̘̪͖s̨̻̜͈e̟̻̱̻d̲̬̫ ̛̜̙͙̦̳̼̠t͝o p̴͕a̵͔̣̺y̰̜͇͜ͅ.̱̥̝ͅ.̸̳̮̱͕̹̲͉.̼_  
_̠̺̜̱̭̼ͅ_  
_̛̤͕͚͎̣C͚̟̤al̡̬͔͎l͏̠̘̺̬͍ęd̜̹ ̫̗th̡̪e̬͕͚͙͍ ̲͇̫̟̤̰̱c͓͚o̮͠ͅp̻̺͎s̝͖͚̟̣͚̰.͇̮̞̣ͅ ̲̘̩͙̫̩͔T̼̖ͅh̸͙̮̤͈̭̞e͉y̘̟̙͇ ̧̺̤͚̟̯̺͖need ̥̪̙̦̖t̗͕͖͔̥̱͝o̲̯̰̗͈ ̺̰̻͙̟̦̱k̹̣now̪̩̹̞̞ ̢̠wh͕͖̻o̖̮͉̭ ҉t͚͚̲͜he͕̠͍͔̥̺y͓̪͖̩̥'̺̞͠v̼̥̹̯̱͠e̗̥̦ ̤͉̗̻͕̯̲m̮̦͍̫̣̤e̲̠̱͔͝ͅs̜͓̫̭̣͠sed̳͍̭͘ ̵̝w̷͈̘͓͓̞̮̺ḭ͇̙ṱ̭̠͓̘h̳͍̤͔̻.̣̥̗̘̪_  
_̪̝̯̝̼̕ͅ_  
_͟N͕͖̥͕͈̮̬O̯̤̞̻͎̦̗-̣-̬͚̯̯̹̦͜!̸!̣̮͙̦͍̠_  
_̶̞̬̩_  
_̵̙̳̣̞P̲̙L͔̮E̟̖͖͍̟A͙̳̭͘S̢̗͓̟̭͇͚̫Eͅ ̣͈̬͍̪Ḩ̫̱̮͙̻̺̯E̮̝ͅLP̤̭̯̲ͅ ̹̪̱͈̮̹̘͠M̙̞̰̹̖̕E̷̹!̵̞̹͔̱ͅ ͚͔̙̠͞ͅSO̷̮̗̙͎͇͉M̧EO̰Ṇ͍̳͍̠̞̤͠E-̥̠̭͢ͅ-̟̫̫̩̰!̮̟̮̕!͎̗͝_  
_**͔̮** _  
_**̝̰ͅN̞̖͔͈̻͍o̜ͅ.̜̣ ̛̗̙̻N̮̻͚̫̝͈͞o̤͈̠͖.͓ ̞̮͔͚̤N̴̙̻̟͔̯o̶̺̱ͅ.̦̥̠ ̫͇N͖̞̼o͉̭̩̲͇͍ͅ.̠̹ ̷̺͉N̨O!͖̥̫̘̺**  ͕̲͟Ỵ̼͔̤̼͇ou̝̜̫̪ ̷c̘͙ą̬̺ͅn̞̞͍͚̬͝ͅno̹̕t͉̜ ͕̼̲̗̰͉͝d̩̼͓̥̪o̺̺̜̥̤͜ ̮̖̹͇t̶̬͖͚̺h̷̹̲̮i̮̱͚̗͕͝ͅs҉̲͈̝!̳̭̯̺̻̦̭_  
_̢_  
_**͇̩̹Ḭ͚t ̡̦̥̗ͅi̡͍s͓͔ ͈͕e̡̹̯̳͉i̦̝t͇͕͇̟̟h̛̲̜̹̺͙̣͍e̢̹̠̳̗r͢ ̙͕t̻̱̩͖̰̩̼h̨e̻͍͉͍ ҉͔̦b̵͙̥͓̬o̸͚̮̖̯͙y̞̲̲ ̙̞̞͎̼ͅͅo̤̗̺̖̯͝r̪̭̼̝̗͈͚ ͈̠y̖͎̯ǫ̤̲̰͇͍̩u̧**.͚̰̻̻_  
_̮͍̳̠̱̖_  
_T̵̤͔͖͇͓̙͔h͝e̡͙͇̥̱n̹̰ͅ ̦t̞ạ͞k̜̰̣̜̬̤e̯ ͕m̝̹̼e͏̻͚ ̵͚̱̣i̖͡n̮̳͈͍̼ș̯̼̖̠͖te͎̞̟̲̟̱̞a̤̼̼̜̠d̻͙̻̹̯!̢ ͉D͈̲̭̳ͅon̪̘͝'t̲͝ ͍̥ͅd̪̤͙̮̬̟͘o͈̗̝͔̙͜ ̠̦ͅț̜͔̯̙͙̰h͔̤̟̟͠ị̦͕͡s ̬̻̩͚͕͖ͅt̢̜̰̳̠̜̜o̷̫͙̙̪ ͡t̘͢he͏̦͖̲͇̲ p͓̩̫͙̯̬o͏̱̹̗ͅo̺͇̦̲̝͙̞͡r̩̠̮ ̲͓͙̞̝͎̰͟c͉̜ẖ̞̮ḭ̯̞̻̯̜ḏ̵̳!̳̝͕̖ ͎͇͔̖̣͟_  
_̙͔͈̩̘̺̹_  
_͓̤͕̰͚͈W̻̪̘͞h̜͖̞̣y̪͙̼͓,̤̼̘ ̧̼͖̱̫̘͓d̴̦̘͉̫͕͇͓o͈̫͔̰c̟͝t̴͍̥͍̟̖̱o̹̠͓̯̭̗͕r̹̯͉̖͔̠͢.̝ I̻̘s͏͎̪ ͇̲̮t͝h͍͍̣a̜̝̰̻͍̟̞͘t̹̯̰̥ ̘͓̳̘̪a͇͇̠͙̫ ͇̗̞͙̝̝c҉͚̺̖o̷ņ̙̠s̻̼͎̗̲̬c̠̦͡i̪̻̞̼e̯͇̟̫̬n̲͙̪c̸̫̮̮̼e̻͇͉̬͕̲ͅ?̜̪̖̗͠_  
_̠͕̗͈̟̻_  
_̠S̙͚̲̱̭͕t͏͖̖̯o̜̫̳͔͝p̗͖̯̤̟̮͖!҉̺ ͔͈͚͙G͙̻̣̰̙̦̞E͎̳ͅT̟̼̗͔ ̨̞̦̞̠͖̜̻I̞͕̲̙͇͚T̨̖͇ O̠F̻͕͢F̻̲̫̫͘ ̙͈͓̕M͖̝͡E̷!͙̦̭̖̥̠̰͝ ͉͎̞ͅ **I̭͈͍͎T'͖̞Ṣ̺̩̦̫̣ ͔Ȩ̗̳̦A̘̱̲̞̩ͅT̞I̝̙͈͖̗N̛̲̬͉G̶̞͓ ̢̰͎̤̻̗̞ͅM̢Y̝̫ ͏̣̠̜͔F̱͇̱͈̮̰͡A̹̗ͅA̠̦̣̻̜̫̦A͕̘̳AA̜̘̗̤̗C̗̠̙E̱̙-̱̭̠̲͖͉!̻͖̮̟̕ͅ!̴͙̱͔͇̮̥̦ ͔̜̫͎H̥͈̻̬̖E̯̹͓̞͖̗͕L̫̹̼̭ͅP̢̪̲̱̩ͅ!͈!̧̭!̦̩̲̣̝̰͍!̡͔͈̥̺ ̝̥ ͙͖͈M̮͜OM̵̩̱̙͉M̵̞Y̗͓̫̗̕ͅ-̬̟̙̜̥̗͡-̳̹!͏̘̝͖͚̫̮̜**_

_Congratulations Doctor. He looks good as new._

_We still haven't forgotten what your parents did, little one..._

_Schlange. Release him._  
_͙͎̣_  
_W̨̯e love you spatz_

 _̴̼̗D̰̥͕ea̦̦̞̺͉̥͞ͅr͔̫̺̝̠̹e̙͙͓͓̣̩͕s̛̜̱̟͙t̺̰̻̮̭͓ ̧A̰̮̗͉n̫̻̺g͈̭e͉̻̼l͇̮̫̫͙̭͖a̱͇͇͇.̣͖̕_  
_̳̖̞̖̻̹̜͞_  
_**͉No̩̜.̡̤̪̹̱ ̧̺̖ͅN͙̭͇̰͟o̩͜.͍̭͟ ̫̗̫͍͓̞̫Ṇ̼̝̹͇̘o.̖̤̱̹̠͙̲ ̻̞̱ͅN̮̬ͅo̬̘̥͓̲-͉̞͞-̨̘!̩̗͘!̳!̣̠̫!̩̮͕̟͚̰͘ ̰͇͚H̹̦̕O̵͚̖͙̪W̷ ̰̱C͖͙̟̟̙̕A̝͎͘N ͞Y̲̱͔͈̼̲̙O̦͈͎͍̜U̶̝ ̶͓̭̝ͅL͇͓͞OO̘K̻͎͎̫͞ͅ ҉̦̜͉͇̟A̟͓͚̻̪̼̭T̼̜̲͓ ͎̻̪͙M͘E̻͕̺ ̲̣̳̗̪LͅI̮̲͉̳K̹̟͉̲̹E̞͔ ̞̤̞͈T̬̬H̢̺͔A̙̝͎̯͚̠͠T̹̯̙̖̟̦̺!͉̝͙ͅ**  ̺TH̙̣̰̩̘̭A̲͉̻T͚ͅ ̡̘̘̗̱B̖̪̰̦̖O̟̫͕̳̝͈Y̙̬͇ ̘̼͔D͢I̝͖E̪͎̻̼̩͎̞͟D̛͚̱̰ͅ U̢͈̲̘̰̭͓N͚̗̤̺͘D̼͚̥E̶̜R̹̗̰̟͝ ̬̝̫̗̻ **M͚͖̙̳̺͙̻Y͚ ̥̙̯̪̼W̧̳̖̤̠͉ͅA͖T̗̖͉̙̳͎̩͝C̣͙̪̱̤H̴-̧-͙̠̱̦̻ͅ!̦͙͈̹̲!͓̠͕̟͙̗͉**_  
_̟͓͓͎̮̫͢_

 

_There is a way..._

 

 

 

 

_To end it all._

 

 

 

 

_N̰͎̟͉͚͢o͏̞̜͔̙̻̹ ̗̞̫̹͚̕ͅm̡̠̪̤͈̹̫orę͎̼̖_

 

 

 

 

_**NO MORE-!** _

 

 

'Brings back memories.'

Mercy looked behind her.

She saw her former self, now dressed as she used to be when Mercy was but a slave, a tool of destruction for the Shimadas.

A cold, empty smile was all there was on Angela, seeing old blood stained grey clothes, leaving a hollow sensation in the depts of her stomach.

 _'_ _Doesn't it_ _?_ _'_

* * *

Cutthroat Bill's inhuman yell, as he charged towards her, was what brought Angela back from her trance.

_**"METZGEEEEEER-!"** _

Perhaps...

This was the boy's revenge from the after life.

Mercy closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, as she accepted her fate.

Not when a red eyed demon deftly deflected the assault, evaded Bill's knife, and started bludgeoning him with Mercy's baton until he stopped moving. In her weakened, feverish state, Angela couldn't tell that the shadowed figure was on her side.

She looked around for anything familiar. Anything.

Her purse.

Angela ran for dear life, as she brought out her trusted .475 Wildey Magnum out of it, pointing towards the approaching silhouette.

̶̳͇͕͍͓͈̦̞̹̥̭̩̞͈͚͢͜ ̴̢̻̦͙͚̟̖̤̤̼̝̱̝̠͚͚̟͚͡͞͠ ̶̵̡̧͈̪̜̪ ̧҉̶̷̲̞͈͓̞̜̫̥͖̹͡ ͕̺̮̰͔̗̝͕͍̟̫̘̗̟͈̺̭͡ ̶͈̟͕̠͟͝ͅ ̛̭̪̩̞̥͎̬̩̣̗͘͞ ̴͘͠͡͏̤̻̹͉͖͕̯̞͍̬͈̲͚͉ͅg̨̛̫̪̻̩̟͓͈͠͠ę̷̛҉͉̫͔̬͔̥͈̟l͝͏̲͎̮̲̣̣̱̮̪̫̖̯̩̳̹͎͇͘̕a̵̷̖̬̤̝̹͎̰̣̟̱̙͇͕̳͚͘͟ ̷̛̰̠̝̲̳ ̶͏̢̭̱̤̹͚̖͓̬̝̰̪̙͎̭ ͏̶̺͍̭͚̹͚̘̲̯̝̟̼̦͟͢ ̷̸̡̥̺̣̭̜͎̩̠̘͕̖͟͝ ̷̻̼̥̯̯̫̗̣̠̳̬̭͚ͅ ̴̶̨͙͇̹͔̰̝̜ ̶̴͖̟̱̗̘̬͕͡ ̛̜̤̜̠̲̖̩̠͖̗̥̰̭͎ͅ

S

Stay away!  **Stay away from me** -!

҉͓̙͇̳͍̬̙͚̹̼̝͓͡ͅ ̸̧̨̢͉̲̥͕͈͈̘͈̬̝͚͓͖͇̦̩̘̖̺̕ ̢̡̡̞͕̮̰͖̬̰͝ ̷̹̦̹̟̺͓͍͓͓͈̺͢ͅ ̵̶͚͕̲̗͎̕͜͜ͅ ̡̣̺̙̥̹̞̗̞̪̳̼̠̞͙͚̳̪̫͇̕ ̶̛̰̗̲̲̘͖͔̭̪̗̯̖̗̙̺͉̤͟ͅ ̸̵͓̞͓͚͖͓͎̪͍͇̤͍͙͈͔̦͇̭i̡̟̲͉̣̯͈̞̤͓̗͕̤̕͡ ̧̜͍͔̞̹̞̱͡t̷̨̛̘̪͓̮͍͖̳̺̲ ̷̨̕͏͈̺̫̟̞̠̪͖̘̮̖̮̮̘̪͜s͏̴̵̢̲̙̦̖̳̬͖͠ ̵̳̲̟̗̬̳͖̦̝̟͉͕̟̞̲̥̕͟͟͡m͜҉̞̟̻̣̹̟͈̤̮̼͖̙̜̻̺̹ ̴̦͉͉͈̫͚̭̦͕͉̬̯̙̰̣͎̰̟͠͠ͅe̵͔̼̣̯͎̝̲͚̰̗̰͘͠ͅ ̢̪̝̫̠̥͕̬̕̕ͅ ̴͟҉̟̦̺̪̯̩̰̱̦̠͔̖͎̤̭͖̟ ҉҉̖̪̼̺͍͉̬͈̪̯̻̯̗̬̝ ͟͢͏̧̥̗̼̠͓̹͉̜͈͙̱̩ͅ

"I said  **stay away-** - **!** "

One bullet let loose.

It kept moving, the bullet flying through, missing the target.

̢̮̰̹̰̺̻̻̯ ̷̩̙͍͚̻̲̣͜͞ͅ ̸̰̪̱ ͚̻i̺͎̥̺̭̙̺t̠̜̝͕̣͔̲̕͘'̷̢̣s͍̪̻ ̵̜̹̟̣͎̲͟͡o̶̪͔̝̙͉̮̥k̵̨̬̻̘̮̳͓̖̘̜͢a̶̧̺͍̻͈̗̳̥̥̪y̖̹͈̼̝͔̮̳͟ ̵̬̞͞h̢͕͎̟̪̫̞͞e̷̵̻̩̞̹͍'̢̬̹͟s̗͉̗̪͍͔͢ͅ ̵̹g̸̰͎͢͡o̴̳̩n̻̤e̷̤̺

She must've missed. She could barely see what was in front of her.

Fog. Chaos. Blood everywhere.

The shadow engulfed her completely.

**"STAY AWAY-!"**

Angela saw two warm, concerned scarlet eyes connect with her own.

A hand formed within the ink of darkness.

Black and white.

Their arms meet.

* * *

**"ANGELA-!"**

* * *

"Angela-!" A bone crushing embrace was all what the trembling crime boss could feel.

"He's gone! He's gone now! Please, everything will be alright, he's gone..."

Mercy can see clearly now. She looked down. Her parents' blood vanished.

Fareeha was... crying? She wasn't worth any-

**She had let a shot lose-!**

A smoking bullet hole on the other side of the wall caught Mercy's attention.

The fresh blood on Fareeha's jacket was not hers.

Oh god.

**_Oh god she almost shot Fareeha._ **

The gun slipped through Angela's fingers, uncaring how loud the landing noise was.

Cutthroat Bill stayed down.

Schlange was dead.

"Fareeha-!"

She held onto her bodyguard's blood stained face, trembling fingers afraid of what just transpired before. "I... I- _I_   _don't know what got to me_..."

For a moment, there was peace between them.

It was then she saw (and felt) Pharah slide downwards towards the floor.

_Don't make any sudden movements_

_Your body just went through a big shock_

_You have lost a lot of blood too_

**"Fareeha-!"**

* * *

A small smile emerged from the Egyptian's lips. Boss called her by name again.

Must've heard wrong.

* * *

Warm colours took over Pharah.

Yellow, red and brown.

All she could see was the ceiling. The air smelled sickeningly clean, feeling a light, cool breeze around. Tiles...?

They were back into the opera's restroom. Cool, soft towels were under Fareeha's face and neck.

"Good. You're awake."

Pharah observed her surroundings better. Bandages were covering her right shoulder and chest. Her wounds felt closed, well taken care of.

No blood on her either. It was like she never fought.

Mercy was cleaning her hands, blood pouring within the sink. "I have just concluded the extraction of the bullet that was in your shoulder. Your wound is sewn with butterfly stitches. It will heal within three weeks if cared properly."

A voice was heard from the other side of the door. Mercy kept cleaning up the equipment unflinching, uncaring about the noises from outside.

Despite the unassuming person's attempts, it was locked tight.  _"Ack! Out of order? What kind of service is this..."_

Boss waited for the person to leave until she spoke.

"One of these toilets were out of order. I merely changed the location of the pamphlet."

_Thank You_

_The Management_

Pharah suppressed a laugh from the mental image. Mercy is usually so prim and proper...

She noted all her possessions were neatly folded into one place, one outfit on the other. Parts of her disguise and belongings lying undisturbed there were somehow all cleaned up. The watch was on top of the pile. To help the blood circulation flow better, probably.

Fareeha lost a lot of blood. You don't need to be a doctor to know these things. The crime boss in question came near Pharah, with a batch of fresh bandages in hand. Her hair was loose now, distracting Fareeha a little. A curious, penetrating smell emitted from Fareeha's shoulder.

It smelled like... ether?

"You will be excused from your services for at least three weeks to recover."

The shock evident in Fareeha's eyes did not go unnoticed by Mercy. "At ease. You act like I fired you. I want no excuses. You need to rest. Despite the rumours, I am not inhuman," a hand went for Fareeha's back. "You have to rise a little bit. But I will need your help."

Using Mercy's hand as a pivot, Pharah managed to get into a seating position. "Now what?"

"Leave the rest to me Fareeha, I know what I'm doing."

Mercy did not notice Pharah's breath hitch a little, as she made an extra sheet of bandages around the tanned shoulder.

If there was a time when Fareeha started looking at Angela as more than merely her (admittingly) good looking boss...

"E-aw!" Mercy's hands were practically stone cold due to methodical sterilisation.

"What are you smiling about?"

"..."

That was it.

"Nothing."

* * *

After helping the heavy bodyguard get onto her feet, Angela waited until Fareeha changed back into her cleaner tuxedo outfit in one of the stalls. "You ready? Let's go then." Mercy lead themselves slowly towards the parked Mercedes, all possessions safely on them.

Pharah was annoyed by her weakened body. Talking another step forward, she almost faltered, not seeing a broken part of the pavement partially due to exhaustion. Catching her on time, the crime boss gave the bodyguard much needed support.

The fall wounded Pharah's pride a little.

"Gently. Walk with me."

She stared towards Mercy, scarlet red meeting baby blue. Not a trace of malice was in her voice or posture.

_\- "Stay away! **Stay away from me** -!" -_

Gone was the scared woman Fareeha saw tremble during Bill's assault. She had looked like she was on the verge of crumbling down against an unstoppable force. Nothing. No emotion was betrayed through her sharp, almost angelic appearance. But her gaze was now fiercely tender, taking Pharah completely by surprise. Perhaps... under all that perfect ice there could be...

Looking elsewhere, Pharah focused on their destination, limping through gritted teeth.

"I probably disappointed you."

She could try again.

"How so?"

Undeniable curiosity was Mercy's response.

"I forgot to wear that fucking tie. Now..." she gestured towards her empty collar. "I'm a mess. To think I wore that hanky too.."

 _To make you fucking happy... b_ _ut I didn't fucking manage..._

Seeing two guards approach them, Mercy mumbled the next words, hastingly buttoning up the two remaining holes left carelessly open.

"You just hang on. I'll go ahead."

It took a few minutes for Pharah to realise.

_**Did she just make a pu-** _

"Do you need any assistance, madam...?"

"It's alright. My bodyguard just had a stroke. I keep telling her to lay off the sweets..."

Fareeha's furrowed glare made the story more believable. "Alright madam. As you say."

The two guards kept staring towards the odd couple.

"Man. A stroke at such a young age. She looks pretty healthy too..."

"You're impressed by  **that**? Have you seen the size of that behemoth? Blondie can bench press a planet, I can tell ya. Plus, the tanned one doesn't look light."

"Well, if you put it that way..."

* * *

Mercy insisted Fareeha laid down at the back of the car, despite her protests.

"But... but I..."

"You are  **NOT**  driving Pharah. Not in those conditions," she placed a small towel from the restroom on the guard's forehead. "Rest. We'll be home soon."

Angela entered the driving seat, expecting a retort to that comment.

"I should be the one driving."

Mercy's heart definitely skipped a beat. Pharah did not deny their base was her home.

"Rest."

None of this was betrayed by her voice or facial expression.

Loosening the grip on the steering wheel, Mercy started driving back to base.

* * *

Rain started pouring down, a light hail tinkled on the windshield. Both wipers reached a soft rhythm, helping to keep the road clearly in sight. After looking at the rear window, Mercy's reflection did not match the driver. Thankfully, whatever projection her mind was creating had reverted back to the Nobel ceremony clothes.

Before the attack happened.

_'That poor boy was finally avenged.'_

And her parents. And all the rest who were killed by that unpunished bastard.

The traffic lights and passing by flash lights went through the person to Mercy's right.

_'But we almost lost Fareeha tonight.'_

Mercy stayed silent, letting the projection talk for herself.

_'Was it really worth it? All of this?'_

Green light. A crazy drunk. Mercy waited until he left the front of her car.

_'Will you take her to the apartment?'_

"Yes." Concerned, Mercy's sight flickered towards the sleeping figure behind. Even breaths. That's good.

_'You **know**  why I'm here.'_

Mercy didn't have to answer. The master key was already in her purse.

_'Beneath the stairs. In the kitchen. And in the front hallway.'_

The crime boss pressed onward, paying good care towards the incoming traffic.

_'I wonder. If a certain someone knew you spy on her without consent... what would she think of you then?'_

Mercy did not brake because that would awaken Fareeha. But the tone of her voice could've torn walls down, despite the low volume.

"You know why I did it. All three of them. Ana has  **many**  enemies. What if they attack her in the dead of night? And they  _only record sounds_."

And she wasn't a fucking creep. She made the app sleep when it skipped certain late hours. It was programmed to work automatically if machine gun noises were detected during those hours. At least, if Ana's enemies tried hurting her through Pharah...

_'No, you are not. But it is still **wrong**.'_

Letting out frustrations diffuse through a sigh, Mercy started reversing to park. "What am I supposed to do..."

She noted Fareeha trembled a little, raising the open windows.

_'The right thing.'_

Raising the hand brake, Mercy opened the empty glove compartment, and reached out for the purse.

A white, distinctive handkerchief was folded neatly beside it. She kept it...?

_'If not for her... still. Do it. Do the right thing. For us.'_

Mercy stared at her younger self.

_'Please.'_

* * *

Carrying a six foot tall, well built Egyptian was no mean feat, especially through a hail storm. But Angela wasn't the second most powerful mobster in the city for no reason. Not needing to reach out for her purse, the red master keycard in it was enough to make the door lock flash green. Door knobs aren't made for these types of apartments. When the door was opened with one leg, a familiar sight showed up.

"Hello Anubis."

The Doberman gave one, quick yelp, happy to see the master and friend.

Until it realised its master was not 100% okay. Its whine endeared even the cockles of Mercy's heart. "It will be alright," Mercy couldn't believe she was talking to the dog, but she had worse to converse with. "Faree... Pharah will get better. You'll give her plenty of company soon."

Placing her bodyguard on the nearest couch (spotless clean) Angela removed her blood stained (if you knew where to look) shoes, gloves and tuxedo jacket. After making the pillows as comfortable as possible, she helped a slumbering Pharah law down on them, back in a 45 degrees angle.

A nice, warm shower would be the best solution for her.

But Mercy did not have the heart to awaken her. Fareeha looked so peaceful...

Angela placed the clean, ivory handkerchief softy next to the sleeping figure's pillows, fixing loosened strands of fair hair to rest on one side of her shoulders.

A glint caught Mercy's eye.

An emerald dagger was on display at the far end of the coffee table. Careful about not making too much noise, Mercy gently removed the artefact from there, returning it to the self made cabinet, which was obviously made to encase it.

 _How did Fareeha get in possession of this...?_  As far as Angela recalled, Pharah had lost the auction... by a mere 1,000 grand.

Mercy bit her thumb in a pensive manner. Maybe the rumours were true?

Tough, cheapskate Rodger Dodger owed the Amari a favour...?

* * *

_Somewhile ago..._

_"Ahahahaha! This was such a steal! And at such an important auction too-!" A white, fat, rich elderly man walked around the streets in a drunken fashion, flaunted the dagger hanging by his belt wherever he turned. "I don't know what possessed Doctor Ziegler to sell it, but that's how I roll! Rodger, the deal maker! I only strike at the very end-!" He entered a big, giant brick wall made out of brown, gold and blue._

_"Hey! Watch where you're going- oh oh! Mi- **Miss Amari! I-I-I I'm so sorry**  for walking into you-! My mistake-!"_

_"It's alright. I wasn't looking where I was going."_

_"B-b-but **of course**! Whatever you say! Eh... heehhh... hhhh..."_

_"It's okay. Relax! Deep breaths. I meant what I said."_

_"Alright then. Jolly... jolly good then. Have a lovely night, Miss Amari."_

_"You too, Mr Dodger."_

_Rodger's belt felt terribly light._

_**But he wasn't crazy enough to point that out.** _

* * *

Pharah started moving her sleep, face scrunched in a mix of pain and fear.

"I... I'm... so- sorry..."

Dagger forgotten, Mercy went straight next to Fareeha. "Shhh. It's... it's alright, Fareeha. It's all over now."

She was asleep. Mercy could call Pharah by name. But Angela did not expect what she would say next.

"I... failed..."

_**He's gone!**  He's gone now!  **Please** , everything will be alright..._

With those two words, Mercy allowed herself to be Angela Ziegler again.

Slowly, she lay herself on the couch, where there was little space between her and Fareeha. She checked all possibilities.

Pharah's breath was even. Never one pause.

Her eyelids didn't move, not even to peek. No rapid movements either.

Angela gently took her pulse. It was between the 40s and 50s.

_Fareeha..._

One hand trembled a little, as it brushed strands of hair away from Fareeha's face.

She was still asleep. Her gaze fell on her bodyguard's lips. Never has she seen Fareeha before with her guard so low.

_You will refer to me as Dr. Ziegler or as 'boss'. Understood?_

To hear those soft lips say her name again. Even only once...

She sighed. To hell with that. Affection was never her thing. Not even... she placed her hands on the corners of her mouth.

Angela should hate Pharah. For everything she represents.

Mercy did once. But never Fareeha herself.

"...you..."

Angela remembers how Fareeha was mere hours prior, motionless in her own pool of blood.

How she saw her bodyguard out of the corner of her eye, hoping she had seen wrong.

How Fareeha Amari was in her office, the first time they had officially met. How she inspired confidence and unity amongst Mercy's soldiers, head high and proud, like she belonged with them. How happy she was whenever Anubis came to greet her after a rough day.

Or just her rare smile alone.

"...A..."

Mercy gave in.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear, she started slowly descending towards the sleeping guard.

"You didn't fail me... you will  **never**  fail me..."

She could almost imagine it. Fareeha's smile, turning from soft to beckoning.

Deep, crimson eyes, looking only at her behind beautiful, long lashes.

Their noses barely touching, Angela can feel Fareeha's light breaths on her lips. Her eyelids started to drift lower...

"N... n... A... n..."

The name alone made Mercy stiffen, agony flowing in her veins. Angela returned to her seat, staring pensively towards the coffee table. Her eyes lingered on Pharah's bandages, where the bullet was extracted. She knew what Ana had thought of her. And the rest. To them, Mercy will always be different than the others.

Dr Angela Ziegler.

_The youngest Nobel Prize winner._

_Der Lachelnde Metzger._

_The Angel of Death._

Will always be an outsider to the mafia world. And to people like Ana, she will be  **never**  be good enough.

Angela replayed their pact in her mind, clear as crystal till the last word. She did not agree to Ana's terms until Pharah was brought into question. If Fareeha knew she was the one to suggest the trade off... her gaze returned to the couch. What would she think of her?

As an empty earring was touched to calm her thoughts, Mercy looked at her mobile.

The three black boxes were still working. If she unmuted the app, she'd hear what was going on outside.

And inside.

One word from Fareeha would make her stay in the apartment for the night.

"A... An..."

But she had agreed with herself to do one thing first.

_Do the right thing._

_For us._

_Please._

The hidden recorders' light all turned red in their locations.

Mercy took off her formal black coat, placing it softly on the sleeping figure.

Fareeha moved a little. But stayed deep into slumber.

"A... A..."

Even in death, Ana had control over her daughter Angela could only dream of possessing. The crime boss noticed, whenever she tested Fareeha's loyalty between her and her mother. She would lose her energy, her mood going from cheerful to stoic, always turning into an obedient child that would defend her mother's honour, perhaps at the cost of her life. Her head would lower, as if she had lost the battle before even trying.

And that was something she never wanted between them, no matter how tempting.

One hand tightly clasped over her heart.

The tanned woman stirred in her sleep. Angela placed the same hand over the knuckles, helping it loosen.

Such thoughts pained her.

The hold got tighter. Fareeha's pulse was light and even, her breaths giving out a peaceful hum.

Unrequited love is painful.

What was the  **point**  of having a heart, if you cannot use it?

But she was being selfish. Fareeha had her own demons too.

A small whine broke Mercy's thoughts, as the Doberman came to comfort the distressed crime boss, licking the loose hand in the air. Angela stroked one ear behind Pharah's personal bodyguard. "Take care of your master."

A sharp yelp was all what came from Anubis, the dog now on high alert. She was in good hands.

Quietly aiming for the entrance, Angela switched the low light off, slowly closing the door behind her. Only the outside and the door's lining had lighting coming out of them. Pharah's even breaths and soft, pitter pattering of rain and ice against tightly shut windows were the noises left behind.

"Goodnight... Fareeha."

As Angela leaves the room, the door shut out the light.

* * *

_"An... gela..."_

* * *

Except for a silver outline that remained.

Mercy didn't let go of the unlocked door for awhile, the well kept mask cracking completely.

**-click-**

She closed the door properly, sharp heels echoing in the empty hallway. Fareeha's boss headed back towards the Mercedes, not caring in the slightest to take cover from the heavy hail storm descend around the parking zone.

Pulling the car's door sharply, the outside world was muted.

A shaking head dropped firmly on the steering wheel, the only noise that could be heard from within the car was a heart wrenching wail, as a single tear slides down. Followed by countless more, descending upon Angela's pale cheeks like a broken dam.

After all what she's done...

Impossible.

She must've heard wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rafa and Eadala: Clemency and Justice in Arabic.
> 
> Please pretend the Gerard from Chapter 1 is not WM's ex husband. Arsene Lupin meets knives is too cool for that. I went for a Ian Flemming/Tom Clancy style of writing for the Opera House section. Decisions was directly inspired by Logos' newest chapter from PFOS. C-Ch-Ch-check it! I love the Hitman series too. (Absol-utel-ly not Absolution though.)
> 
> Sorry if I chat too much. I really hope you like this chapter. I have to take a break from writing to revise for my two credit resits, but I should do fine. Felt that I owed you guys one before leaving so then you won't miss me... much. :-P 
> 
> I know that Mercy is softer here than depicted in the Gangster AU strips (hell I got the impression Pharah falls for her first through SRisu's drawings) but this version of CB!Mercy was actually Angela once, soo... in this version, Mercy falls for Pharah first. I try to to write this Mercy as if she was a fusion between an evil Vesper from CR and Human!Poison Ivy, if that makes sense. I also took inspiration from Logos and OK's fantastic fics and SRisu's awesome AU sketches. Whilst adding some humour of course. Thank you again all of you, don't forget to R and R! (Please. I need motivation to continue this story.) Btw: how are we here when we're supposed to reach Junkrat's compound? We'll get there eventually.
> 
> TARANTINO STYLE MFS! *air guitars* ...Sorry. ^^''''
> 
> Also... did you recognise the opera before the reveal? *wiggles eyebrows* 
> 
> Bye for now, everyone!


	7. Orange - Balcony - Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Fareeha have a little heart to heart after their visit to the opera.
> 
> And a shadowed figure discovers a little secret...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Enjoy folks.
> 
> (I don't know my exam results yet. Wish me luck boisss and girls D:)

The city was rustling with clockwork routines and constant struggles during the youthful night.

A person walked by the neon lit streets of Chinatown. He looked around the area, seemingly searching for a specific location. After seeing a well lit shop with its shutters slightly lowered, he entered the oriental styled premises, wiping his dirty shoes off the entrance mat. The door opened, a light bell ringing slightly. A woman was beside the sink, which was flowing with fresh, clean water. She was sterilising the equipment.

"Welcome, welcome!"  

The tall, blue eyed man gazed towards the surprising figure. "Evening miss. Is Lang not available?"

The beautiful young lady (he had functioning eyes) gave him a genuine smile, looking at him curiously. 

"He didn't tell you? He left for a holiday in Timbuktu. Mister Lang will stay there for as long as necessary."

Ah. Now the dark skinned, sharply dressed man understood. Lang did say he had to go abroad, but exactly when, he didn't tell...

"At least, that is all I know."

The man stifled a laugh. Lang was always a man of a few words. His employees seemed to be no exception.

"Trust me, I know how it's like to work with him. Must be a relief for you he went on holiday for awhile."

Both conversing people laughed a little at the small talk. She switched the water tap off. Tilting her head slightly, the woman walked near the purple couch, which was currently occupied. A woman of mixed race was sitting on one side, reading a fashion magazine.

She looked to be into her early thirties.

"Did you have an appointment, mister...?"

"Dao. Yun Dao."

She tapped an open record book once, a small smile lingering on her face. "Of course, Mister Dao. Please, have a seat."

The black haired baber assistant looked towards the other woman, still immersed into her reading material.

"You don't mind if I start him first, right...?"

The tanned woman closed the reading material. "Of course not," she nodded once. "Go ahead. I'll wait."

She was probably the assistant's lift back home. That would make sense. He did not want to keep them longer than necessary. Dao made himself comfortable on the chair, fixing it properly due to his height. The woman behind him wrapped her arms, waiting patiently. Throwing a black cape around his neck gently, the assistant went back to the sink, picking the clean straight razor from it.

"It's quite an old fashioned tool, isn't it?"

Dao nodded, curious at the odd choice of subject. But it didn't matter. He always loved learning new things.

"I suppose so. Disposable razors have taken their place. But..."

The young lady started honing the blade before stropping it against leather, the comforting scent of glycerin gently invading Dao's trajectory.

He inhaled deeply. It reminded him of home.

"... nothing beats a clean shave with one of those beauties after a long, hard, tiring day of work. It is very comforting."

The sharp, quick swings on the leather belt echoed through the quiet, but well decorated room.

"Would you like to have your hair trimmed before I shave your beard?" 

Dao shook his head gently. "I appreciate, but no thank you. I have come only for a shave. It is late at night too."

Nodding slightly, the barber lowered the chair a little, to make the client feel more comfortable. "I appreciate your kindness, Mister Dao."

Bringing out the well prepared shaving foam, the black haired woman applied it all over Dao's prominent five o'clock shadow.

"Perhaps it's because I'm a woman. But..."

The razor's motion started following the direction of where the small hairs pointed, making them easier to shave off.

"What is comforting about this? If I'm not careful enough, I can cut you by mistake."

Dao laughed at the younger lady's concern. "It's not a problem," he noted the other woman went towards the entrance. "I'm under capable hands." The half cast was beautiful, he had to admit. Very slender too... but too serious looking for him.

Still. He wanted to make small talk with her too. "It is rather windy outside, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is."

The woman did not turn around. Short wisps of raven black hair swayed with the motion of the wind. 

"It was windy that day too."

Dao closed his eyes, not really paying attention to what the young girl said.

The barber kept doing her job perfectly, keeping the razor stroke gentle caresses against his chin.

"The day you kidnapped me."

The bell rang sharply this time. 

That changed everything. The woman closed the door shut without any hesitation. Dao tried getting up from the chair, but the razor stayed firmly in it's place, too close to his throat. The black cover around his neck, previously comforting, now gave a sense of imprisonment, making Dao struggle and move towards the exit without success.

The calm, gentle demeanour of both the blade and assistant vanished the second a key was turned. 

"Mister Dao."

Were there where gentle, soothing motions from the blade, Dao could only feel an air of menace ooze through the cold, sharp shaver.

"That was _very_ rude of you. We're not finished yet." Dao started sweating mountains, the blade was starting to leave a mark through the edges. "We haven't even discussed business..." She tsked disapprovingly towards Lang's most trusted mook. The black haired woman fixed her spectacles with her right hand.

Busine-

"You bitch!  _What have you done with Lang??_ "

He gnarled towards the barber, uncaring if the blade tore parts of his skin. The black haired woman remained as stoic as the woman behind her. Now Dao could see what was going on. "Whatever you want from me or my associate, you're getting nothing out of us-!"

A click was heard. An unmistakable click of a gun having it's safety removed.

The half-cast was angrily pointing her gun towards Dao, big fat tears now streaming down her cheekbones. "You... you  _bastard_... talking to my boss like  _ **that**_...  _fucking hell_... you filthy, arrogant  _pig_...  ** _acting like you don't know me_** -!"

Dao should've been terrified. But he was completely honest. "I swear. I've never seen you in my life."

A mix of rage and anguish was behind the gun nuzzle. " _ **YOU FUCKING BASTARD-!! I'LL KILL YOU MYSEL-!!**_ " 

The woman didn't move a single muscle. But one word was enough to calm down the frenzied half...

Chinese... Half Indian...

High tempered...  _little brat_ -

" _Candela._ "

The black haired woman raised her right arm again, this time out of comfort.

"Lower that gun. I understand completely. We talked about this. His punishment will come in due time. For now..." she looked at her former client in disgust. "We need him." The woman in question took her frustrations out on an innocent lamp, swearing in Mandarin. Dao could not understand it, they were too fast. Quickly taking advantage, the boss spoke in her native tongue towards the angry mobster, obviously addressing the tanned woman by her real name. That calmed the brat down.

Only just.

"Goddammit boss!  _You promised me! **Twenty years boss**!_ " Candela, the codename of the gun wielding woman, was on the verge of collapsing. "You know.  **You know**! You know what I went through! I  _waited_. WAITED.  _Twenty_.  _long_.  **fucking**   **years**  to find this  **bastard**. I ate dirt for  _five years_  after he took me away from my parents. I find you out of pure chance. You raise me, give me shelter, let me search for my parents after so long.  _And what do I find-_ " Dao let out a gasp of fear, the cool touch of the gun's bullet hole burning against his skull. "My mother.  **DEAD**. My father.  **DEAD**. Both  **dead**  out of  _fucking_   _heartbreak_.  **NEVER**  to know that their beloved daughter was still alive-!!"

Pushing the gun further into his skull, Candela kept on venting out her (justified) frustrations towards the child trafficker. 

"And you don't even bother to remember me or what you did to me. **But I do**. Do you remember what you told me that day..."

Her boss kept looking, observing both mobster's ever move. The olive skinned Chinese brought her free hand towards her mouth.

" _Half-Chinese... half-Indian..."_

Candela removed one glove, revealing a small but unmistakable butterfly mark under the new Bamboo Master's sigil, showing she was exactly who Dao feared. And judging by the layers of the mark-  **SHIT.**  She was one of the Bamboo Master's elite? She?  ** _THIS-??_**

 **Now**  Dao remembered the child. He still had the bite mark  _that little brat_ left on him when trying to stuff her into the truck.

_**"What a find**."_

Only she managed to escape from the cargo...  **shit.**  He knew he'd regret not searching for that brat one day-

"He meant what he said before. But now... he remembers," an edge was pushed into the side of Dao's jugular.  _"Isn't it right, Dao..."_

The hot tempered elite took a deep breath, shaking her head vigorously. Dao was more afraid of her than the person behind him. "Boss... I know what we said before. And I'll say it again," the gun was lifted towards the sun burnt, agitated Chinese once more. "I really want to repay you for your kindness.  _Please_  boss. PLEASE.  **LET ME KILL HIM-!** " 

" _Patience_ , child.  _Patience._ "

The woman behind him returned back to the sweet, deceiving tone she had earlier towards him. "Remember what I always tell you." Then, as her boss looked towards the tanned woman (blade never leaving Dao's throat) they both said together in Mandarin, this time very slowly:

'Stay calm. Always be brave to make the right decision.'

The raven haired woman stared back to Dao. She smiled again, her youthful appearance clashing with the collected experience behind it.

"Don't think I've forgotten you Dao."

The razor caught a ray of artificial light, seemingly sliding off the iron blade as the woman fixed the terrified man's chin.

"Now... I know. You're getting old. Saggy.  _Tired_. You want to be remembered. Leave your own mark. That is perfectly understandable."

And resumed shaving his beard.

"Like in Mali. Morroco. Vietnam."

Very slowly.

" _The cocaine extractions. Child prostitution. Getting rich and fat solely from their suffering_."

Very gently.

"I was under the assumption you were sworn to obey your  _old_  master's orders, figures your  **new** one..."

Stroke by stroke.

"But to see what you and Lang are doing without telling  **me**. Before my very **own** eyes. In my  **own**  market. In my  **own**  backyard." The blade stopped. A sharp, pointy part of its edges was dangerously close to one of Dao's eyes. "Dictating  _your own rules_  in  **my own**   **country**. As if you  ** _own_**  it."

If Dao was afraid for his life before, now he was  _utterly terrified_.

No one.

No one knew about their affairs with the Vietnamese and their unapproved methods of extortion and human trafficking.

"To think we had  _just_  started giving this country a clean name in the media. And then... people like  _you_  show up. It's times like this I wish my reputation didn't go against me."

Except... the one person him and Lang wanted to one up out of sheer arrogance and family pride  **somehow found out what they were doing**. Extortion without direct approval or prostitution have become illegal in the Chinese mafia underworld. Both of Dao and Lang's families have suffered in cash ever since the  _new_ Bamboo Master took the throne.

Always in the shadows.

No one knew their identity.

Until they came to you.

So then  _you'll know_. 

Taking a deep breath, Dao felt fear and bile go down his throat. He asked the question, knowing the dreaded answer.

"Who... who ARE you??"

Never betraying a smile, the woman looked through the trembling man through the mirror at opposite end.

"You are an intelligent person. You already know."

The bloodless uniter of all Triad clans gave the hostage an intentionally cold stare. She kept looking at him. Black eyes not betraying a single emotion. And resumed shaving his beard. Very slowly. Very gently. Even though there was nothing left to shave. "I want you to tell me everything. Where is Lang right now. What you have been up to. How many women and children have you sold in my name. How many drugs have you sold _behind my back_. You must tell me  **absolutely**  everything..."

The Triad leader calmly fixed falling glasses with the right hand, knowing Dao will not have the guts to stand up against her.

"Or you will die."

Dao was ridged like a stone. But if he was going to die... in this filthy hideout, of all places...

"You think I'm a fool? You already killed Lang. Why else wou-"

The blade stopped. No doubt was left.

The shaver was hanging above the man's throat, inches away from the jugular. One jolt, one false move-

"Feeling comfortable enough?" Candela had returned to the couch. She held an impassive stare, always pointing towards Dao's skull. Tears dried, she sat on the purple seat casually, licking a thumb to flip the magazine's page. Never breaking eye contact when doing so.

The gun was no where in sight.

"I never said I killed Lang. Why, Lang is abroad. To Timbaktu. Problem is... I don't know his  _exact_  location." 

The smile left the woman. Replacing the simple display of emotion was a cold, ruthless killer.

"And that's where  **you**  come in. Just as I told you before. See... thing is. Once you get to know me better, you'll always know  _one thing_..."

The Frozen Phoenix flipped the holding side of the blade quickly and drove it straight into one of Dao's palms.  

" ** _I always say the truth_**."

Writhing in agony and fear, Dao could only scream, blood kept pouring out of his skin without any control.

Keeping him firmly in place, she sunk the blade beneath the tender skin, twisting it slowly, making the man suffer in the name of all voiceless victims whom he sold off as cattle. "And this is  _nothing_. Compared to what my elite would do if I let her get her hands on you."

At her mention, Candela stood up, waiting for the big boss' orders.

"You  **will** tell me where Lang is. I have been generous till here. You best return my kindness tenfold. Now..."

With a simple hand gesture, the gun wielding woman quickly returned the weapon firmly behind Dao's head, ignoring his pleas for mercy. He now realised there were faint, weak noises of pathetic whimpering behind the cash counter.

A small victorious smile escaped both women's lips.

Mei continued. "Do we have a deal?" 

* * *

Two sharp knocks where heard on the door. The third came through a coded pause.

"Enter."

The tall bodyguard entered the office suite of the Ziegler empire leader, the distinctive cufflinks catching the eye of the seated woman through the window's glass. "You called, boss?" Fareeha closed the door behind her, saluting the kingpin in front of her.

The woman in question turned around, still seated on her black chair.

Soothing, warm rays of orange coming from the open curtains went all throughout the room, giving the area a less intimidating atmosphere.

"At ease, Pharah. You don't need to announce that  _everytime_  you come to my office."

Although monotone, there was a hint of amusement in Mercy's tone of voice.

Pharah, the bodyguard in question, broke a little from her stoic appearance and gave out a little smile.

"Boss. Maybe you should stop turning your chair  _so dramatically_  whenever I come in."

Placing two hands behind her back, Pharah stayed a little silent, enjoying the quiet hum of peace between them. The European calmly got out of her chair, getting close to the recovered bodyguard, chest puffed out proudly. "How's your arm? Is it better?"

An eyebrow was raised at the delayed response the mafia boss received.

Pharah made a few arm exercises, making circular motions in the air. "Never been better actually. To be honest, I was getting a little bored staying indoors." Angela, the mafia boss in question, returned to her chair leaning back with a slight nod. Stretching her legs forward, one of the platform shoe's back heels tapped slightly on the floor.

There it was again. It was hard to catch to the untrained eye with Fareeha staying immobile, her stoic face not betraying a sound. But she looked... distracted. Mercy couldn't help it, curiosity taking over.  _Maybe it was the choice of dress._ Which she wore **specifically** for...

Angela tried lowering Pharah's guard by bringing up a very beloved subject.

"Even with Anubis giving you company? You usually never stop taking about that Doberman. How does he not go insane, I wonder."

Three weeks and and half passed since their trip to the opera. Since then, the relationship between the doctor and guard got a little...

Pharah's body began to rock, as a small cackle of laughter escaped involuntarily.

Angela stayed motionless, her face perfectly still.

"Don't laugh. This is serious. You drive me insane with discussions about that dog. I can only imagine what that poor creature has to go through... considering the **wonderful** trick he learnt from you." Another deep chuckle. Mercy was  _really_  enjoying this.

"Anubis. Fetch. Anubis. Play dead. Anubis. Whisper. Now,  _surprise jump scare_. Let's not mention the time you made him do that to Saleh..."

But.

She cannot allow herself to get too close.

Not for the time being.

"...or to  **me**."

 

_Surprise jump scare!_

**_-Bark!-_ **

**_What the-??_ **

 

"Ohh~ Is that what got you so mad? It was just a little guff-"

Pharah backed away a few steps behind, seeing the stern (but _slightly_  amused) blonde capomafia get up from her seated position without warning. The wooden floor board echoed the sound of high heels loudly in the room, making Fareeha pretend she swallowed due to angering her boss. 

Those black tights didn't exactly leave much to the imagination **either**.

 _Oh_. It took Mercy her all to not let a tiny mirk of satisfaction out. The distraction were the _heels_.

That _is_ interesting to know...

"A joke. Explain then. How exactly did I get completely drenched in water? And you just stood there. _Laughing_."

Wheezing was more the perfect description. Fareeha did it again despite her efforts. "It's not my fault it was _actually funny_."

A glint from one of Pharah's loose collar buttons caught Angela's eye. She almost sighed loudly out of exasperation. "The look on your face boss. Your eyes got **super** wide. I didn't think it was actually _possible_ -"

Two foot soldiers on either of Mercy's side started snickering too. One swift look towards them made them silent. She didn't have to do that before...

Without looking around, Mercy let out a command towards the guards.

"Leave us."

The black and blonde haired veteran soldiers were going to make facial gestures towards the towering Egyptian, having seen their boss in that uncomfortable situation as well. They did not expect Fareeha giving them a livid glance, daring them to continue laughing.

Both gulped loudly, exiting the office immediately.

"I apologise Doctor Ziegler. I have undermined you in front of-"

Mercy waited until the door was closed.

"Pharah. You  **must**  be joking."

The bodyguard stayed in her place, facing the boss once more. Angela's swift hands went straight to fix the shirt. "Your shirt is not tight enough. **And your tie**..."

Fixing the slightly hanging part of the white shirt (paying extra attention to the suspenders) Mercy started arranging Pharah's loosened tie.

"Is _this_ how you wish to keep presenting yourself? You don't even have the excuse of the day having just started. It's almost evening, for crying out loud..." A steady, slender finger gently pushed a leaning Fareeha back after following the tight pull that made the tie look appropriate again. "Don't get too close. I won't be able to fix it properly like that. You..." Sometimes she wondered if Pharah did this on purpose.

"Fareeha Amari. Frankly I expect you know better-"

"Maybe I want to."

Those simple words made Angela's world stop.

Two calloused hands were felt on both sides of her cheeks, tenderly cupping a barely functioning crime boss, lifting her face up gently with simple hand gestures.

"Maybe I want to get close."

Feeling like she was seeing everything from outside her body, Angela remained immobile when Fareeha started to gently lean down to kiss her, not believing what was happening ( _or feeling_ ) before her. Fareeha broke through the stoic facade when, after opening her own crimson orbs, met shocked baby blue, still looking the same as before.

A look of genuine concern and confusion went through Pharah, pulling away slightly. "You know. Usually people close their eyes and sigh happily when they get kissed by someone else." The small, predatory glance slowly growing over the confusion was a little... intimidating.

" _Maybe I need to try again_."

In the _good_ way.

Angela Ziegler. The name alone made crooked crowds tremble. One of the supreme boss' of the criminal underworld in the world.

 **Now** had an idea or two how that blasted orange being tossed in the air must've felt like.

Skillfully evading prying hands, the two mobsters engaged themselves into a delicate dance. The lady in red held everything back from the guard, being used to be the one interacting with the Egyptian (and her alone) with a flirty tone and... a _little_ more than that.

"This... is  **unexpected**." 

Impassive glance aside, Angela started backing away slowly. The guard in question followed, looked more enamoured by the gesture, fluttering long black lashes towards her. Fareeha placed one hand into her pocket, the other...

 _Loosened that goddamned tie again_.

"Understatement of the century."

Feeling mahogany wood preventing her backing away any further, Angela couldn't do much as arms essentially trapped her to the desk.

Pharah's well build figure essentially towered over the attempted escapee, leaning more forward. It was obvious the Egyptian was trying hard to not out a satisfied Cheshire smile out of the situation. The clicking noises of Fareeha's own heels coming from well shined black shoes, straight from the districts of Hungary, distracted Angela enough to not react.

Death's messenger was no longer free from any evidence of crimson.

Their eyes met once more.

"And here I thought our flirtationship was something _very promising_. I don't like being teased for long, _Ziegler_... we need to have a talk about our little... _arrangement_." 

Suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy, she turned around, giving the Egyptian her back to clear all thoughts. Did she just hear right??

_This is impossible. I **must**  be dreaming._

But Pharah felt so  _warm_. Angela never had any dream this intensely. Not one lucid dream in her life.

 **Never** -

It was useless trying to escape. Two strong arms encircled the European boss, tenderly moving upwards and back down. Fareeha was bold enough to hold her from the back. 

"You're so _soft_..."

The former solider buried her face deep into the nook of Angela's neck, knuckles grazing a heated cheek for a brief moment. "I hope that... you trust me, Ziegler. You're _very_ safe with me..." The hushed words came out like a purr, reminding Angela of the unpredictable movements of the ocean waves.

" _Honey_."

Angela's brain stopped working.  **Too close**.

**_Too close._ **

Whatever she wanted to say left with the wind, as Angela suddenly faced Pharah. She couldn't believe what was staring back. Fareeha Amari was looking at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. "Look at me. I won't hurt you..." Gently bringing her boss' chin upwards, the bodyguard leaned down with half lidded eyes, not discouraged in the slightest when Angela looked away from her lips at the last minute. Light kisses started being dropped on Angela's neck and hair, making the crime boss' last defences crumble like wet tissue paper.

Still, she resisted.

"I **promise** , Angie."

_Angie??? This can't be..._

"I was awake.  _I was awake the whole time."_

Her mind was clouded with everything about Pharah. Just... just one more push and... " **I-"** Another kiss, this time _dangerously_ near an ear. "I don't **\- I can't believe you**... w- why would you call out for A-Ana then... it... it..."  _It makes no sen-_

"Not Ana."

Angela opened her eyes, the delicate touches of her guard's warm lips having seized.

Fareeha looked completely exposed, not wanting to stall what was between them anymore. "I never called for Ana's name."

_An... An..._

" **Angela**."

With that one word, any remaining resistance raised the white flag simultaneously.

Fareeha's own eyes now widened as Angela's lips crashed onto her own, two pale hands tightly roaming through untangled, thick black hair.

Finally.

A quick bite on one of Fareeha's reddening ears elicited a whimper of pleasure Angela wanted to hear more of. _So much more._

**Finally.**

Spinning Fareeha around, the guard's knees buckled against the desk, making her essentially trapped beneath her boss. "Ohhh~ So strong~ I _love_ that in my women..." A scrutinising glare made Fareeha quickly correct herself. "My **woman**."

Deepening another breath taking kiss, Angela pulled back for air, removing any article of clothing her hands landed on.

"I _really_ like the sound of that..."

Fareeha stopped Angela's hand when it reached to undo the shirt. Hesitation came back crashing down. "You... don't want this?"

"That's... what we need to talk about. I want more. So much **more**  Angie."

Angela closed her eyes this time when she felt her lips being touched.

"But I don't do one night stands. Or one time anythings. I **need** to know." Her voice was low and soft.

"What am I to you. I have to know."

Mercy craved to hear that sentence being said by the person before her for months.  _Perhaps_ _even more..._ She clung onto Fareeha for dear life, careful about the still tender shoulder that was operated on just a mere weeks before. Leaving a small, tender peck on the visible bronze skin between the shirt and open collar, Angela enjoying feeling the shiver go through Fareeha's whole body.

Her voice cracked. But meant it all with one single word.

" **Everything**."

Fareeha's mouth was left hanging.

Bringing both hands onto her tanned face, Angela leaned up, squeezing the guard's broad shoulders out of open affection before going onto tiptoes to give her a tender kiss.

It soon became a heated one as both mobsters started pouring their love for each other without restraint. Fareeha was pleased to hear soft mewls coming from her boss. It gave her a sense of pride in being the one provoking those sounds.

Pulling back to breathe air, Pharah was surprised to have Angela pin her down to the desk once more.

"Eh... whilst I _am_ enjoying this... really, **really** am... there... **is** a little problem though."

No more masks. "Yes, darling?"

A big, goofy grin escaped Fareeha's lips, making Angela give a quick kiss to both of her mouth's edges.

"Well... you _kinda_ mentioned Ana." A little trail towards the nearest ear... making sure Fareeha can inhale her perfume, drawing puffs on breath on said ear... leave teasing trails towards her- how was it possible to find muscles there~ _And_...

"What about it~?"

"That's... umm. One **hell** of a turn off for me. Sorry."

 **Warum**.

" _What about it_."

Pause. "I mean, don't get me wrong. **I want you.** I wanted you for a long time now. Buuuut, aaahh... well." Pharah scratched one of her blushing cheeks, meaning every word she said. "Now I kinda can't _do_ anything. Nothing beyond cuddling. I'm really, _really_ sorry. I mean it.  **Fuck!** "

A full minute of silence passed.

Fareeha started shyly playing with long, dangling golden locks. Mercy released a little smile despite all frustrations.

The patience she had to have with this **impossible** woman... Angela let out her best, genuine smile. Giving her own half lidded gaze, blonde lashes used their charm. " _What can I do to make you feel any better~?_ "

The bodyguard stared at the leaning crime boss with a _really_ goofy smile. Then she registered the words.

Fareeha pointed towards a tower of important papers with scarlet, still foggy looking eyes. "You see those papers? **I want them removed**. And _you'll_ do-" The European big boss eagerly pushed the mountainous pile of papers off the desk without a second thought. "-it?"

Angela cooed  _very_ softly _._ "Did THAT make you feel better...?"

Lifting a smooth shoulder upwards, the strap of the bright red dress fell off at the soft movement, begging to be fixed or removed by the person before her.

Imitating a sphinx to perfection, the bodyguard didn't seem to take notice or watch the strap fall. She didn't sound convinced. More shocked than aroused. "I said _remove_ them, not _push_ them."

The recreation of horror arises on Mercy's face.

Oh no. Why. Why. **_Why_.**

"Oh _no_. I **finally** have you in my arms and-"
    
    
    " **That was hot.** "

Jolting upwards and hopping on one side of the desk, the same space that is now paper free, Fareeha pulled an enthusiastic blonde mobster onto her lap.

"Oooh~~"

"That was **really, really hot**."

Pushing all of Fareeha's buttons open, Angela pressed her hand against her firm stomach, digging her face into the spice scented crook of her neck. "You have no idea..." She casually stared down towards one of the papers (invoice?) which stayed on the desk. "You have no idea how much I imagined this happening..." 

 **Really** looked at the paper.

She picked it up. It had nothing but scribbles and colours smeared all over.

" _Happening_...?"

Fareeha was too busy removing her lavish red dress to care what was on the paper, leaving butterfly smooches wherever she touched.

"Mm? An- **gel-** a? _Amar~~_  What's **wrong** my _Angie boo bookins~~_  Whatever's troubling you, I can fix it. Mmm-mm, **tell me~** "

"Fareeha. I can't read."

"Is that all~? It's okay  _my **beautiful angel**_. I can teach you the alphabet. _With my tongue._ It's almost a magic trick.Repeat after me- first letter is _aaaaaaa~"_

 **"A-Amari."** Angela instinctively slapped a travelling hand away after feeling the sly guard cupped her through the exposed clothing. " _I need to think."_

"But I gotta prepare you for the letter b~~" Fantasy Fareeha was more amused than troubled by the pretty weak slap. "I'd be a **bad** teacher otherwise. Yes?"

" **No**."  **No. No. No.** "Ja-  _no!!_ I can't fucking read-!!"

"Neither can the current President and he's doing **just** fine. L-let's not mention that guy, he's as bad as... forget it." Pharah let out a little growl that made Angela _severely regret_ figuring out what was really going on around her.  _"Where were we, ya amar~~?"_

" ** _Scheisse-!!_** _No._ If I can't read this-!!"

_This was all a-!!_

* * *

Big widened blue orbs snapped open at once, raising upwards with an instinctive jolt.

She was back in her suite. The curtains blew gently, the insect screen doing its job properly.

Sheets were tossed aside like a hurricane passed by.

And there was no Fareeha Amari in sight.

It took the mafia boss more than a few seconds to process what just happened. Her academic mind started talking. 'A nocturnal emission is usually something 70% of the male population tends to go through when they start their first puberty phase, but it is not uncommon for-'

Flopping to one side of the bed very casually, Angela buried her face into one of the non-squashed pillows.

* * *

A Doberman's ear flicked towards a noise. His black snout pointed towards the open balcony.

From the dog's perspective, it sounded like a tiny kettle being left heating on a maximum lit stove.

**-Bark!- -Bark!!-**

"What is it, 'bis?" A tall, broad and well built woman looked upwards, crunching Autumn leaves and small brances under casual shoes.

"You heard something? From boss' room?"

**-Bark!-**

The muffled scream, inaudible by mere mortals, stopped. Anubis went back to normal.

Fareeha let out a sigh of relief. If Anubis stopped growling, that means nothing dangerous happened to Angela.

But... just in case.

"Follow me, 'bis."

**-Bark!-**

* * *

Following a quick _and really cold_  shower, Angela did not feel like returning back to dreamland _just yet_.

She analysed the dream from top to bottom, as her nature. Everything until she reached for Fareeha's tie did happen. But then, the Egyptian stoically leaned down towards her and... using one finger, she gently pushed the leaning guard back to fix the tie.

**And that was it.**

Deep down, Angela must've wished the bodyguard would make a move at some point during their last meeting.

Deep. Deep. Deep. Deep.

**DEEP.**

**Deep down**.

Mercy even made sure to wear an expensive red cocktail dress, designed to be off-the-shoulder, to celebrate her return too.

Did Pharah  _say_ something about it? **NOOOO**.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mercy did not need to pretend everything was alright around her, as she was alone in the master bedroom suite.

She grabbed a trusted packet of Red Apple cigarettes.

Just one drag.

Then she'll go back to sleep.

* * *

Wearing a fancy nightgown over her silk black nightdress, Angela went next to the clean ash-pail to use it for just one cigarette.

Enjoying the chilly breeze, Mercy looked up torwards the starry night. This will definitely clear her-

"Can't sleep?"

That voice made poor Angela almost choke on her first drag of the night. It was only through expert usage that didn't happen.

 _Of all people._ "Looks like you can't sleep too."

Fareeha gestured towards her uncollared dog, which was allowed only because the Doberman was well trained.

"Boss. I always take a walk during these hours. 'bis keeps me company. Right Anubis?"

**-Bark!-**

She had to admit. Angela got used to the cheerful (but fearsome if provoked) guard dog. "Enjoying the light breeze then...?"

"It's a little chilly, but it's expected at this time of year. Right Doctor Ziegler?"

' _Really_??' An annoying presence came beside the crime boss. 'I noticed _too_. It's so _chilly_ isn't it... _why_ don't you come up _here_ and _warm me up_ Fareeha **_dearest_** ~'

Mercy looked away in disgust with how _eager_ her younger self was to blow some kisses towards the unaware figure below the balcony.
    
    
    " **Stop that.** "

That made the projection climb up on the railing a little, two dainty legs starting swinging into the air.

'She can't see me. _You're_ just jealous.'

Unfortunately, this time- Angela **HAD** to agree with herself.

"Is..."

Fareeha looked conflicted. Mercy could tell, seeing right through that stoic facade. She was used to it now.

Both Zieglers concentrated purely on the Egyptian (who was shaking a little) who's expression did not betray any emotion. But still softened up just a little when Fareeha's broad frame shivered once more. Her beloved pet whimpered a little too due to the chilly breeze.

Was she... worried?

Rediscovering these emotions of empathy, even if step by step, was kind of...

Flicking the burnt part of the cigarette into the nearby bin, Angela internally scolded herself for letting her emotions take over reason so easily. Feeling exposed, not wanting to let this _needy_ side remain out of hiding for too long, she asked in a clipped, disinterested tone.

"I don't have much time here. What is it you want?"

'What do you want _schatz_? Can I kiss all of your boo boos away? Are you feeling _cold_?? OR do you want to serenade for me? **That's** why you're here right~'

...

 **Boo boos.**  Who even says that anymore?

'You goddamned _hypocrite_.' 

" _ **Quiet**_."

Pharah looked up again, her stoic appearance returned completely. _Verdammt!_ So did Mercy's.

"Is there any way we can help? Any at all?"

Angela's expression softened at the kind gesture, not having expected it. "No...  no. There is no need. I am okay. You have nothing to worry about."

_I have you here._

_"_ I'm... going to sleep on that note _."_ Taking another drag, the crime boss switched the cigarette off, throwing the used filter into the ashpail.

"Goodnight Pharah."

Fareeha made a little nod out of curtsy. "Goodnight Doctor Ziegler."

As Angela returned back into her sleeping chamber, Pharah noted another thing about her superior.

Colbat navy blue really suited her eyes.

Pharah let out a deep sigh. As if that red dress wasn't fucking alluring enough...

* * *

Sun-rays started seeping through the binds covering the aluminium window.

A fair headed woman woke softly with the waking birds of early morning, bickering loudly between one another.

A head of ink black hair was peacefully buried into the other woman's bossom, well toned arms keeping the blonde firmly in place. It took Angela moments to realise that one of her hands was still entrwined with her bodyguard's. Tracing parts of beautiful skin where the neck meets the rest of her body, Angela enjoyed the way Fareeha shivered under her touch, feeling goosebumps climbing with every movement.

Stroking her messy scalp very gently, Angela dropped a little kiss on the Egyptian's forehead, a small smile slipping out on the both of them.

It's been exactly two months since Fareeha returned from the failed Russian job. Angela recovered from the time she was severely malnourished or, as her beloved guard affectionately called it, her 'fasting period' and returned to eating regularly again.  

Speaking of Fareeha... 

Angela couldn't believe it. Pharah was  **finally**  beside her. She was fast asleep, sighing softly in slumber. Switching a lit cigarette off on the closest ashtray, Mercy leaded into her lover very slowly, remembering clearly the time she only had one, sole jacket to give her company. 

She hoped to never go through something similar again. It was a selfish wish, considering the harsh world they both live in...

Wishing for nothing wrong to happen to your lover is something natural. But... not for Angela. She went through too much horror when she was the Shimada's hostage. Mercy was actually considering going for some therapy sessions... even for the sake of relearning how to-

"Good morning  _amar_."

Fareeha was awake, abet with butter eyes still attached on her face. With a mischievous grin, she pretended to return to slumber. Only to lean up, leaving a peck on her lover's delicate (as she called it) button nose.

"How is my special _habibiun?_ Did you sleep well last night...?" The bodyguard moved a little so her arms could circle Angela's body like a big, cuddly teddy bear. She pressed her cheek against Angela's, smiling all throughout.

"Hmm? You can't get up from here until you tell me. That is a promise~"

Many emotions jolted into Angela at once. Officially, this shoudn't happen. At all.

But this... all of this. This was rather nice.

Pharah made a little noise of happiness when Angela planted a little kiss on a tanned cheek.

"Good morning...  _Fareeha_."

Despite everything she's been through. Despite the reputation preceding her demanding she always remained impervious...

Angela could gladly get used to this.

* * *

A darkly lit room was surrounded by countless cameras and computer screens. The lava lamps in the area provided much needed light.

Some were telling the news. Some were showing the inside of the compound. Others were showing cartoon clips from YouTube. The flickering lights coming from the screens gave more colour to the area other than red, brown and black. A woman was casually eating some popcorn, flicking a few TV channels in a bored manner.

' _-right in front of my salad??_ '

"Hahaha, that never gets old."

The unofficial ruler of all information within the city, whether it be important or fake, was enjoying her downtime.

She had managed to get hold of the disk (USB stick but disk sounds way cooler in her profession) containing all names and identities of all Russian mafiosi before big bad fuzzy bear leader ~~_Bella_~~  Zaryanova managed to destroy it. That data should come in handy.

The figure in question knew Zarya was going to call for _specific_ backup.

So~

She went to a _certain_ bombshell's notorious headquarters to collect a late payment. And did it in front of a _certain_ Egyptian, because rumour has it~ apparently has become more than a little... _close_ to the imposing Angel of Death.

And Sombra just LOVED rumours. They always had _some_ truth in them. It was up to the listener to find out what's real and what not.

If the rumours were **true**...  

Then the Amari heriess' got an iceberg fetish. Or was a masochist. No other explanation.

She knew Ziegler. Emotionally, there was literally nothing but ice and a cold emotionless glare, if you were lucky to be on her good side. But even she had to admit. Mercy wasn't _exactly_ a displeasing sight for sore eyes. Mm. Maybe the Jackal went to sniff up her skirt by accident or something. 

Although a relationship between them _would_ be surprising, Sombra did not judge either mobster. Not at all. She's a hard skinned Mexican after all.  _And_ she's seen **far** worse kinks from the mobster world, shuddering at the memory of Don Trombone.

That fucking pee fetish, _dios_...

The most important question at that moment was: what should she eat for dinner?

Perhaps takeout will be the best option. Pizza is looking pretty delicious right now-

" _Figlio di puta!_ "

Sombra died a horrible death at the maintenance level of a really old vapourwave game once more.

"Damned invisible mutants! Where the fuck did _they_ come from-?!" Patting on the disk at the far end, currently being decripted by a program designed all by herself, Sombra patiently waited for the list to become readable, starting the level from the last save point.

"No warning whatsoever. I hate it when a game does that... **there**! Eat my laser rapier you fucking piece of shit-!!"

It's been already two months. Surely now it's almost do-

**-YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE-**

Oh? Someone remembered her! How nice.

 _This is strange._ Sombra did not recognise this email. Nor the subject. It had no text in it.

Only one attachment. A photo...?

 

**RE: FOR MY CAR**

 

She had nothing better to do. "Okay, here goes. This better not be spam-"

The anti-virus made a soft sound, indicating the file was not infected. A single photo showed up on screen.

A large, toothy smile only resembling a shark's bite starting growing on the dark skinned hacker's face.

"Oh ho ho~ This is **fascinating**. What were you _doing_ here, I wonder..." Sombra was now smiling because she knew what was she having for dinner.

No one gets to stop using her services without paying the right price.

Not even the Angel of Death can escape that.

Quick as a rattlesnake, she made all necessary backups and copies of the attached file on all storage systems she could find. Sombra made a countdown timer for the next Meeting of Minds gathering, mentally enlisting the names of everyone involved in it.

"Let's see _just_ how 'impervious' you really are..."

On the desktop, an intimidating figure looked like they were in a nightclub.

With two women sitting on either side.

" _Madama An-gel-a_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration for cold opening:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0iC9twlSh8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FH7tUf5l1Jo
> 
> HD's Brain: Hey HealthDrink. HD: Yeah? HD's Brain: Do actual mafia stuff. HD: Okay! *high fives*
> 
> So, I really hope you like this one. There will be a few more before we'll return to the Junkrat storyline but...
> 
> Trouble in paradise? You betcha. See you next time~~
> 
> Anyone curious which game Sombra was playing:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ID2BEXJ4IKc


	8. Cell - Moon - Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they escape their cell, Fareeha remembers what motivates her to move forward in spite of all doubts and adversaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I gotta thank all of these people:  
>  **Hanghr** , for making an amazing commission possible with her wonderful art. Please please please check our her Tumblr and Twitter. She has amazing art and deserves all the plaudits she can get. :)  
>  **AgentHill** and **BonBonBourbon** : For encouraging me all the time, good bad and fugly moments.  
> And last but not least: **Sassilut**. She beta'd the first part of what was supposed to be the beginning of Chp.8 with lots of patience and encouragement. I couldn't have had asked for a better beta reader.  
>  This is going to be a short update. I hope you all enjoy the read. Thank you for your patience.

_Drip. Drip._

They were finally outside of that blasted cell. Fareeha was beyond joy to see a familiar face in the dank, underground base. It may not be the junkyard she last visited, but damn.  _Drip._  All of Junkrat's bases looked exactly the same. Everywhere was full of concrete _. Drip._

Old, creaky ventilator shafts hummed in sync like a mechanical battle drum. Light generators illuminated the closest tunnels but did not allow proper scouting of the area without the risk of getting caught.  _Drip._  Creaks coming from above made a few heads turn upwards, making observers note a combination of water and hot steam pour out of the ventilation shafts.

 _Drip._  Cold wind blew against damp walls surrounding the escapees, making them hyper aware of everything around them. Slow, rotating ventilation fans crept against ill kept ducts, white noise filling their eardrums with thick anticipation.

Danger was near.

_Drip._

Especially.

 _Drip_. Those constant.  _Drip._  Never stopping.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._   **Goddamned**  water droplets which never seemed to end falling.

One even ended up on Fareeha's nose, making her instinctively back away and immediately shake it off. She got lucky.

It was clean. And wasn't sludge.

The musty smell that followed after breathing in their first intake of air did not cover the painful groan coming out of the Russian donna, who was being supported by Fareeha and the cowboy themed bounty hunter. She had fallen to the ground after being released from the electroshock chair, barely able to stand. Fareeha was disgusted at the fact that Zarya's inflicted shock waves had been triple the amount she received. The first thing Fareeha did after freeing herself and Zarya was to frisk the Roadhog torturer in case he had some valuable information. A map or something. He had an old-fashioned walkie talkie on his possession, but nothing more. Cursing loudly in Arabic, Fareeha spent precious minutes searching all over the prison cell, lamenting about her lost phone, but not loudly enough to draw attention.

After giving up search, the Egyptian helped Jesse support Zarya towards the rusted, noisy steel door. Noticing it was too hard for Zarya to talk, Fareeha wordlessly asked Jesse what to do next. Shaking his head from side to side, Jeese re-examined the surroundings.

"While I admire the fact that you're still alive missy," Zarya gasped in pain, but did not retort, "I'll have to let you go now. We can't carry you at the same time, I'm afraid. Makes us all vulnerable."

Getting Zarya's weight off his hands, Jesse opened the Black Jack's gun barrel with a strong twist, adding three more bullets into the empty chambers. "Last three," spinning it and jamming the firing ammo back in place, Jesse fixed his retrieved poncho upwards, perhaps a reaction out of the cold. "We need to conserve our bullets."

"Easy for you to say." Fareeha's voice croaked, feeling she hasn't spoken for months. "At least you found your weapons."

"I was lucky the guy who tortured me had them on him. But I know where your firearms are. And missy's too. Not that you need to rely on them completely to kill someone, unless you've lost your touch."

Hissing out between clenched teeth, a wounded bear told Jesse to stop calling her 'missy'.

"Anyhow. 'Reeha. Missy," Zarya groaned at the ignored advice. "We need to find Junkrat's main gun cabinet. It's our best shot to stock up and retrieve our weapons. I'm sure I saw first aid kits lying about there. If not, that is our best location to find them." An eye twitched with annoyance at the sight of Fareeha's face, lowering one side of a hat that had seen better days. "Not to mention getting rid of that thing off you. How the hell did you get that? Did Junkrat feel lucky? Or is it there by mistake?"

Pharah, temporality zoned out from the bleak surroundings, let out a much needed laugh.

"Both-" Laughing was a mistake.

The muscles under the burn mark were still reeling from the sudden burning iron mashed into her skin, shocked nerves keeping Pharah from using all of her facial structure temporarily. Turning her head towards the left side of her cheek, Fareeha's neck felt slightly exposed against chilly winds, having grown tired of the rumbling pipes. Painfully low artificial light sparked through ill kept electric lighting, some of them humming irritating buzzing noises above them.

Hiding numbing, teething pain, Pharah tried changing the subject.

"The sooner we get home the better."

"Da, da," Zarya agreed wholeheartedly, "I can't vait to see, see m-my little sun again."

Memories of pain and unabashed fury resurfaced in both escapee's minds.

Pharah had managed to restrain any sign of pain with all her might. But the memory of that brand burning down, smashed fiercely against cheek and bone... like she was some sort of  _cattle_.

**"And get our revenge."**

If Junkrat had enemies before, now it was replaced with white hot fury which will  **never**  burn out.

"Da, nesomnenno. But first, home and rest. Maybe some broth too."

Fareeha looked upwards towards her taller, buffer associate. The reddened rope and stuffing marks were still lingering on Zarya's battered state too. "He really wanted to kill you. That bastard."

_Drip._

Both flinching subconsciously, the two marched on, following their only lead towards freedom.

Lowering her head, Zarya started shaking, her body remembering its limits. "Da."

"We're gonna steam roll him, make him writhe in pain and  **regret messing with us**."

Noting that this calmed Zarya down a little, Pharah clenched grimacing teeth, feeling powerless at their situation. "Look at us. Cowering and fleeing in the dark. Like we're a bunch of mook-"

Clearing his throat a little after observing in silence, Jesse raised his hand, urging the two freed mobsters to remain silent. Crouching in the shadows, all three felt quickening heartbeats pound uncontrollably into their ears, as clear footsteps started walking towards their closed cell.

Fareeha looked upwards. No wonder it was so dark from the outside...

Jesse waited until the coast seemed clear, lowering the timber of his voice to a whisper. 'We need to reach the storage area. That is where the gun cabinet is. Follow me, and you'll both be fine.'

The Egyptian stayed quiet for a few precious seconds before nodding back. Perhaps it was the wrong time to go back. Maybe she missed the phone and was still there. Junkrat's henchmen were careless. Nothing's chang-

Holding their breath, all three released it simultaneously after heavy, echoing footsteps went back towards the opposite direction. No time turning back. Letting a little sigh of relief escape, Pharah couldn't help but miss a certain partner in crime, whom she had promised to return to her side no matter what happened.

'I know you've been at one of Junkrat's hideouts once, but this place is different 'Reeha. Let's just say he learnt from the last time he had unexpected guests.'

Fareeha had to fight herself to keep a snort climbing from her throat, whispering back. 'It doesn't look that different.'

Waiting until the patrolling shadow faded from sight, the escapees waited the signal.

"Okay.  **Now.**  This way."

"Jou'd b-better knov vhere jou're going, covboy."

"Don't worry, if we get lost, I'll tell you first missy."

It took most of Pharah's strength to keep Zarya from beating Jesse to an unrecognisable pulp. "Za _-Zarya hold still or Mei will mark my other cheek with a cold iron stick and **worse**_."

Facing a fuming ovtcharka in his line of sight, Jesse smiled, still wary of their surroundings.

"No wonder you're still alive. Follow me."

* * *

Reaching a hidden hatch undetected, Fareeha stayed on guard as Jesse removed sachets of grain hiding the iron lid. "This is where I came from. We'll go first left, get your weapons, then we're out of here. We'll find some painkillers if we're lucky."

Feeling Zarya stumble, Fareeha kept her stance steady. This kept the Russian woman from commenting. After removing a heavy box, the last barrier between their cell and freedom, a consistent noise of falling water started to sound audible. When Jesse lifted it, there were no more doubts. A ladder became visible.

Zarya lurched back out of instinct, dragging Pharah with her.

" **No vay.**  Ve are not going through severs,  **suka bljad**. Either ve lover the vater levels  **or**   **ve find another vay."**

Irritation showed on Jesse's scowl. "Let me ask you a question. Were you tied up?"

"Da-"

"Were you tied up and half naked?" Jesse continued, not giving Zarya a chance to respond. "Were you cuffed up from your wrists, punched into your liver, shocked with a cable attached to a car battery for days, with nothing but water and rats for company?" Pointing towards the ladder with his eyes, Jesse started climbing down. "If I can go through this, you can too. Come on. Before the alarm's set off by one of those idiots."

Going down last, Fareeha helped Zarya climb the ladder very slowly, before reaching the lower ground herself.

"Close the hatch. That will stall them." The water was probably freezing cold.

* * *

And it was.

Shaking off the memory of Junkrat's bellowing face, Pharah resumed giving Zarya support, all three walking forward in the tunnel ahead, following the leader.

"Stay close. From now on, we're in hostile territory."

Glancing towards the never-ending corridors and pipes, careful about the creaky camera's locations situated on corners and ice cold water beneath them, they marched on. Kicking a loose pipe out of the way ("No one's here during this hour.") Jesse raised a heavy gate by rotating a tough valve, giving up after it got stuck.

"Fareeha, I need your help. Can you stand on your own for a second missy?"

"I ca- can lead a  **country**  on my ovn."

"Good. 'Reeha, come replace me for a second. Maybe you can make this valve move faster than me."

Making sure Zarya leaned on the nearest wall securely (She looked towards Pharah. "Mei?" Pharah confirmed. "Mei.") she turned the stuck value around until it stopped.

"Nice and easy..."

To their horror, the exit didn't budge an inch. Jesse kept shaking the knob. 

"Shit. It's jammed."

"Pro- probably locked."

"Marmaladed."

Two people turned their heads instantly. "Seriously Amari?  **N** -"

Unmistakable splashes of footsteps smothered through the water, steadily heading towards their location. Heart pounding through every second, Jesse started pushing the door outwards, the same lock from before preventing all of them from hoisting towards safety.

"SHIT-! Not now-! This wasn't locked before-!"

"Zarya come-! There's no tim-!"

**"GO-!"**

"What?!"

Jesse aimed his gun towards the chipped metal lock, the close range being an advantage. The pistol ejected one single bullet shell.

"Two more."

Grabbing the nearest loose pipe and using it as a shield, Zarya yelled back. "I'll reach jou! Let go of the valve and  **RUN!** "

"We can't leave you! No fucking-!" Fareeha yelled when Jesse pulled her towards the exit, the iron gate slowly falling back in place, barricading between them and Zarya. "JESSE! Zarya's still-!"

"Hold still."

Many sparks started to hit Zarya's makeshift weapon and the gate, sharp projectiles breaching through the gate's defensive walls.

With nerves of steel, a stone-cold killer was convinced to not move a muscle, never passing a second glance. Using Fareeha's shoulder to steady his arm, Jesse made short work of two mooks running towards them, two clean shots landing on their temples making them stop permanently.

"I owe you that much missy! Make sure to don't die now!"

"GO-!  _Vat the hell are jou_ -!"

Pistol smoke echoed dangerously close to Fareeha's blind spot. She felt herself being dragged from the edge of her tattered shirt's collar. An empty cartridge fell beside her, but did not let it be a distraction. "Let me go-! We have to stay behind!" Pharah could only see Zarya knock out visible mooks with the force of sheer grit. Out of sixth sense, Fareeha could tell Zarya was distracted by the foes in front of her.

"TO YOUR RIGHT-!"

Zarya flung the blood-stained pipe towards her right, stopping a surprise attack just in time.

"Hah!  **Spasibo Shakal!**  Just like in  **Moscov-!"**

The falling gate shut down like a guillotine, but not before Pharah tossed the discarded cartridge sharply for a headshot, aiding her friend once more. "Don't let this shithole be your goddamned grave, or it's  _my_  head Mei will roll! Rip their fucking hearts out! You hear me Zarya-!  **Rip their fucking hearts out-!"**

Swinging with all her might, Zarya knocked down three charging henchmen with her makeshift shield, knocking another's teeth out with no remorse.

"This way!  **QUICK!** "

Finally listening, Fareeha ran towards the door, furious when Jesse started barricading it from their side after slamming it shut.

"What the  **fuck** are you doing-?"

"The intelligent thing. If Zarya makes it she can knock it down," sealing the door, Jesse rushed towards the ladder. "We can make it, but we're completely weaponless now."

Gunshots hit the only barrier they had, the hinges moving with every impact.

"This was supposed to be a shortcut. She can find another way to catch up from here. For now, stick with me," Jesse reached out a gloved hand to his old associate's direction. "For old time's sake."

Regretfully, Fareeha followed Jesse, the temperature around them feeling colder and colder.

Feeling time slow down around her, Zarya looked back, enemy blows and adrenaline the only energy pounding through her veins.

Pharah was safe. She owed nothing to that gunslinger. Zarya had sharper focus now that she saw clear.

**"STAY ALIVE AMARI-! I'LL REACH JOU SOON-!"**

Another mook biting dust, Zarya now tossed the pipe forcefully to stop three at once, picking dropped machine guns from the dead, firing until she stopped spinning, decimating a wave of opposition in a wide arc, sulphur and gunsmoke rising in each hand.

Pulling her trigger-fingers away after looking down at the empty gun barrels, Zarya took breath. Falling to her knees, she crouched, looking around a pile of corpses, blood, and bullet casings. Smoke and dust finally settled, leaving behind an eerie echo of silence.

Only psychopaths count.

_Drip._

She couldn't tell the difference between the cold water and her own blood anymore.

 _Drip._  More came. Of course they did. Threw a tear gas too. An act of cowards.

Zarya could barely breathe. Pain shot up from her kneecaps, having not realised her body met the ground. Feeling them swell, Zarya could only grunt in agony, rising up to move. Not expecting a rough hand pull back from the opposite direction, Zarya could only gasp as the one person she wanted to crush smiled back at her.

"Good thing I found you.  _Mei would've been **so**   **disappointed**  in me_."

A surge of bellowing laughter echoed through the tunnels, as Zarya finally let the adrenaline rush subside, fatigue taking over the unforgiving punch landing into her ribs.

"Take her back to the cell.  **I've been too soft**."

Kneeing her to the face, Zarya spit fresh blood, as she fed off the urge to scream just to give Junkrat a false sense of security. Letting his mooks drag her horizontally back towards the cell, she kept her injured head low, pretending to be the pelt of a bear not yet killed.

_Sorry... solnyshko..._

Despite her inner strength, Zarya was still human.

_I... cannot make it tonight..._

Fareeha and Jesse retreated back to the shadows once the alarm bells started ringing, alerting everyone of their escape.

They couldn't stall where they stand any further.

Jesse whispers in quick succession. ' **Shit** _._ Stay behind. I'll scout ahead.'

Knocking the wind out of a running henchman with three swift punches slammed into his gut, Pharah dragged the heavy unconscious man's body where she was, to not be seen by anyone else, arming herself in a wink of an eye.

Quietly moving up to the side, Fareeha waited for Jesse's signal, charging forward, hitting another unsuspecting guard in the neck.

 

No matter what.

 

_Flashback_

 

The moon was bright with life that night.

Angela didn't know what made her wake. If it was the movement of sheets, lacking warmth she was used to surround her. Not picking up the sound of gentle breathing tingling softly against the shell of her ears. It could have been the new, lingering scent of tobacco, now buried in the walls. Tilting her head around, she realized her bodyguard wasn't by her side.

There she was. By the window.

She was already dressed.

Impeccably so. Too impeccable. She was wearing boots indoors. Sleek, black suspenders contrasted nicely against ivory. They were angled slightly towards the waist, following the curves of Fareeha's body in a flattering manner. White pinstripe trousers matched perfectly with a heavy well-fitting shirt, combined with a smartwatch, its golden rim shying from being visible. Only the collar was loose, three buttons removed. A sparkle coming from an unhooked cufflink matched the simmering red glow of the dying cigarette.

Angela stayed a little quiet, drowsy eyes upturned towards the Egyptian, to observe a little more.

Her chest raised and fell in close succession. Her stare lost towards the skies. A tremor found its way towards another cigarette.

If there was any fire, Fareeha made no sound.

Another quiet sigh followed the burning ember in the pitch black room, a border of fog billowing outwards from blood red lips, the moonlight highlighting a silhouetted shadow. When a burnt match was placed on top of an ashtray, she stirred.

A glint of moonlight shone upon Fareeha's back, her posture no longer ridged.

"Angela?"

Pretending to be roused by the sound of the ignited wooden match, Angela blinked, letting long fair locks slide off her shoulders. Whatever was haunting Fareeha returned, though she tried hiding anxiety through a smile. "Did I wake you up? And here I tried my best not to…"

A shadow at a distance found Fareeha, striking her down.

Yet… she smiled.

And Angela was beaten.

_She needs comfort._

A nagging voice tapped into her head, ignoring whatever thoughts came before.

The bed felt empty without her.

"Fareeha."

Their eyes finally met, in a partial embrace.

"Come here."

A flutter of a heartbeat was met with silence.

Until Fareeha switched her cigarette off, still smoke trails imitating the snuffed filter.

Removing the suspenders first, Fareeha's hands went for her hips-

"Let me."

Scarlet meeting blue, a gaze was returned with surprise. Breathing deeply, Fareeha falls against the bed, allowing Angela to remove her clothes. A gentle breeze from the open window made Fareeha shiver, having been reduced to only a laced bra and a pair of boxers. Feeling one hand on the side of her exposed face, Fareeha immediately stiffened and looked up towards Angela, softening when she saw a hint of concern from her lover. Licking her lips, Angela gently coaxed Fareeha to approach her, wordlessly asking if she could help. Though her face betrayed no emotion, the movement of propping one arm on her elbow said otherwise.

Letting a small smile escape her nerves, Fareeha tried to lighten the mood, warm breath whispering sweetly in her lover's ear.

"You missed a spot."

Freeing her shapely breasts by unhooking the bra, Angela was a little distracted by her guard's cheekiness, sapphires widening by an inch. Noting the fresh scar that now resided at the right side of Fareeha's shoulder, concern replaced the thought of having a taste of those soft, supple lips once more. Redirecting her mind towards inquiring about Fareeha's wellbeing before her own, the bedspread was lifted slightly.

"Wouldn't you know it, my favourite cushion…"

Laying her head gently on Angela's lap, warmth replaced the goosebumps that had grown earlier, two dark arms encircling the capomafia's waist. In turn, Mercy played with Fareeha's hair. Black velvet feeling as smooth as the chemise, satin nightgown made out of pure silk against her own body, a devilish smirk pulled her closer in tender gestures. A light knuckle traced a line movement downwards towards the spine, enjoying the sight of tight, strained muscles full of tension evaporate under her single touch. Seeing siegessäule inspired tattooed wings contract and move gently, Angela adjusted to see more of Fareeha's quiet reactions, feeling her heart rate relax further with each shiver.

She could remain silent.

Fareeha did seem to be lulled back into sleep, enjoying light tingles and caresses made against her visibly well toned back and neck.

_Tomorrow would be too late…_

Angela prepared to ask the hard question by turning her glance away, the moon being her only witness, uncertainty shining on her face.

"It's Ana, isn't it."

Freezing, her guard stayed in stunned silence for a moment.

Mercy continued, despite her softer side urging to stop.

"She will be in the meeting. It is inevitable. I have to give control of the docks back to her."

The only response was Angela feeling Fareeha's grip get tighter. It lessened when a few strands of hair from her tanned, sunkissed face were gently removed through calm hand movements, soft strokes contrasting against the blank face Angela looked down with. Tracing part of the udjat tattoo descending towards Pharah's cheek, she continued. "Not bringing you with me would be… odd. It would give many snakes an excuse to rattle."

Angela couldn't afford to look weak. "And I need you by my side."

But she couldn't afford to have Pharah be in pain in any manner.

Eying the crux of Fareeha's neck, tempted to leave an amorous touch, Angela lamented internally she did still not have a tattooed mark representing their relationship. Fareeha had meant to make one at 'Santa' Torbjorn's ink parlour a week after they became lovers.

Angela was a patient woman. Mercy however, was restless, especially when it came to Pharah.

It did seem to surprise Fareeha, when she used a simple glass of wine as an excuse to make love to her again, mere days after the remembrance of the Shimada empire's downfall. Those lovely dark eyes, doing the usual routine, following her around, doing her job to the letter. How did they surprise Angela. That small, simple bouquet. A beautiful set of Gladiolus flowers, combined with Calla Lilies and precious Birds of Paradise. Fareeha's expression when giving it to her was full of hope hidden beneath hesitation. Seeing those same features return professionally behind a veil, she wanted to take in all of her face, to immortalise in her mind.

How could she not...?

When she was made her bodyguard, Angela thought she had all the time in the world to seduce Pharah. She would've, and did, take things nice and slow. Slow, to help Fareeha get used to things. Nice, because Angela knew she could be a little difficult.

Then, Ana died.

Making Fareeha her ward was the most difficult choice Angela ever made. It was already bad enough Pharah was on her payroll. She could fix that, eventually. But under  _those_  circumstances, she was reduced to her babysitter. Ana had won beyond the grave.

She did not want  **that**.

As she closed onto those soft, delicate lips, Angela vowed it would happen many more times. Wondering how many mornings she could make Fareeha's body go soft, how many times she could make all worries and fears fade into nothingness. How many nights Mercy would make Pharah scream her name or whisper tender words of serenity in the early hours of dawn.

Then, Zarya showed up.

Three weeks after fearing Fareeha was lying in a ditch somewhere, long dead and rusting, she had returned, much to Angela's joy. They took care of each other. Loved each other. Bickered a little, smiled together. Enjoyed the sights of each other's face. Every day, Angela learnt something new of Fareeha. Fareeha, in return, learnt many new things about Angela.

It was too good to last. Who else would show up.

_Ana was alive._

**Much to Angela's joy.**

Fareeha promised she'll have the tattoo after the meeting. Angela assured, over and over, that Ana would not take her away from her.

Debt or not,  **she**  had the keys to the docks.

And to Fareeha's heart.

Pharah insisted only once. And Mercy relented.

Silence. A soft intake of breath. A pair of arms tightened the muscles, wordlessly clinging for support. Forgetting her previous thoughts, she resumed, hoping her affirming tone was soothing, rather than commanding.

"But… I am here. If you need to talk."

_I will listen._

When Fareeha finally brought herself to speak again, her voice was filled with pain. "I should've told you. Before accepting Zarya's request, I had already seen Ana. Near my father's grave."

A sharp intake ushered from Angela's lips. But nothing more.

"It… it was his anniversary when I, I saw her again."

Fareeha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Mercy stayed silent, as promised. "She had to come back that day." Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was disbelief. Fareeha kept a choke from escaping her mouth. "Of all days…" Swallowing down words before they met her tongue, Pharah kept trying to hold demure emotions still, the only evidence of anger and grief swirling in her eyes.

Another long stare was ushered by Mercy, uncaring if any emotion flied through the cracks at this point.

Angela finally found Fareeha's eyes.

They were glistening, brimmed with unused tears, keeping the burden all to herself.

"I'm sorry. I… I don't want to…"

Lifting a hand gently to cup her face, two sides of the angelic crime boss wanted nothing but the same thing.

"Let it all out."

_Let it out._

"I'll listen."

_I'm here for you._

That was all Fareeha needed to hear. A definite sob left the Egyptian, breaking through all barriers she had kept until that moment. Her grief on the inside surfaced on the outside. "She, she was **alive**. She, she was-was alive this whole, **whole** time. What the hell- what the _hell_ did I cry to, a fu-fucking empty grave a fucking, **fucking joke…?!** " Instinctively, Angela reached out, snow white hands tangled themselves into ink black hair, moving the parts of her bangs falling between her eyes. Burying her face into Angela's gown, she cried.

She despised seeing Fareeha like this.

Mercy recalled when she mourned Ana's death. Those tears rolling down Fareeha's cheeks beside the now known _vacant_ tombstone were still fresh in Angela's mind. Whispers had echoed amongst the gathered crowd, surprised to see a woman like Fareeha was still able to weep. Angela could only observe her grief from afar, not wanting any sort of affection to be confused for pity. She took over the docks out of safety.

Took Fareeha in officially as her  _ward_.

It was too soon for her to lead the Amari empire. It was too soon…

For anything.

"Hush… hush. Let it out. Keep talking…"

_"What else is there to say-?!"_

Fareeha froze when she noticed Angela flinching towards her tone of voice, instantly processing her lack of control.

"I'm… I'm so **sorry** … I shouldn't have-"

Instead of a retort, Fareeha felt herself being pulled towards the reclining of the mattress. Looking up, whatever stiffness from the previous flinching was but a forgotten memory. Gritting her teeth, Fareeha clenched her fists into the sheets, still keeping Angela close with her whole body. "She's, she's **alive**. **_Alive_**. I-I thought… I _th-thought I didn't have the chance to say goodbye…_ "

Gently keeping her warm, Angela made sure to remove all traces of tears with soothing touches, letting Fareeha hold her wrists down tightly when their foreheads met. Mercy whispered sweet nothings only for Fareeha to hear, listening to raw emotions in silence.

_…sh…_

Afraid she would disappear, the guard clutched onto Mercy's embrace, her calm soothing the pain, the uncontrollable pain.

It is against the sound of Angela's heartbeat Fareeha falls asleep to.

* * *

When dawn nears, Angela slowly woke up with Fareeha curled up in her arms, lying perfectly content as she was, staying still as she sleeps.

In spite of not being fully awake herself, she enjoyed the quiet peace around them, wanting to believe Fareeha thought the same when she usually rose before her. She wished to snuggle a little more, the idea of staying with the snoozing Egyptian becoming more appealing every second, but doing so would prevent either mobster from attending the long announced gathering.

Going through the trouble of being there was important.

More because of Pharah than the usual business.

Placing the worn night gown from the night before tightly above her shoulders, Angela fixed the bed sheet softy to cover Fareeha's exposed back, getting out of the oaken framework quietly, aiming to get a quick shower in the morning.

Which she would have, if it wasn't for a pair of clumsily searching muscular arms grabbing her sluggishly by the waist, pulling her close.

Grumbling in her sleep, Fareeha rested long, raven black hair onto the blonde's side, still nesting inside the bed's interior. Angela in return leaned heavily on the wooden board, drawing the lavish bed curtains lightly, lost in thought.

Just a few hours prior, Fareeha was sobbing in her sleep, holding onto Angela for dear life.

"Where are you going?" Eyelids still heavy from sleep, drowsiness seeped through the tone of Fareeha's voice. "You're my pancake, gotta keep you warm and toasty..." There was no one awake to witness Angela's smile. Fareeha was definitely still asleep. "You're going…  _nowhere_ … _zzz_ …" This did not prevent Angela from adding another adjective to the mental 'what Fareeha loves calling her' list.

Something churned inside at the memory of the first affectionate endearment she had used.

_Morning angel._

She wasn't exactly who you'd call one of them, but whenever Fareeha called her that... a foreign feeling always invaded her sense of reasoning. (Maybe it was because Fareeha saw her so, somehow.) A small smile kept tugging on her lips in spite all efforts.

Barely raising her voice, Angela gently coaxed Fareeha to let her go, saying the word she despised the most.

"Please Faree. We have to go." Her small endearment in return finally made Fareeha wake up, slowly becoming conscious from deep slumber.

A wicked grin replaced the sheepish one from moments before. "Mornin' babe."

Leaning backwards to leave a little kiss on Pharah's full lips, Angela wiggled out of the embrace enough to convince her lover to let go, carefully climbing out of bed. Fareeha already missed the sensation of Angela's long strands of hair tickling her nose.

"You can stay a little longer. I'll wash first. I won't take long." Propping one elbow on the mattress, a sly smile ushered on Fareeha's face, extending the strong but beautiful features residing against the mattress, a dash of pink lighting up tanned cheekbones.

"If you do, I'll come spy you in the shower."

Fareeha never actually did. Despite being lovers, they hadn't shared the pleasures of a shared bath or shower yet. Angela either washed first as this morning, or was already drying herself up by the time Fareeha was awake.

She always showered alone.

Missing the tug pulling the night gown closer, Fareeha kept on smiling. Angela hid a vulnerable side of her, holding the door outwards slightly.

"If you _do_ , I'll be  _forced_  to call security."

Accepting Fareeha's cloddish attempt to hold her back with another hug ("I  ** _am_**  security.") Angela unlocked the bodyguard's playful grip by leaving an unexpectedly soft peck planted tenderly on a crown filled with moon shadowed hair, liking how easily tight arms melted away from the grasp with a simple, soft approach.

It was hard to break eye contact with locked adoration coming from a weary looking Egyptian, but one suggestive wink from her could make Angela forget all what she's supposed to do next and easily melt all barriers she had around her heart.

With high reluctance, Angela did not return Fareeha's smile.

After a few minutes, Angela walked into the bathroom, a sharp noise indicating the entrance was locked.

Sighing, Fareeha reluctantly got up from the comforting sensation of being wrapped away from any sort of obligations, starting her own morning routine by applying light moisturiser on her tired face.

She needed to shake it up a little.

Eyeing the suit Fareeha partially wore the previous night, a slight moment of anxiety sat heavily on her broad chest.

Deciding to ignore it for the time being, Fareeha teased Angela a little more. " _Ziegler_. I'm timing you. Ten minutes and I'm coming in. Even if you're not done~" Crouching back on the bed, a slouching Egyptian could hear the bullet proof glass opening swiftly from where she was sitting.

"—I'd love to see you try—"

Letting out a much-needed laugh, Fareeha started applying her water proof mascara, the cascading sounds of hot water pouring down behind closed doors calming her bolted nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please Read:**  
>  I don't know if I'm going to manage continuing this. With exams looming again and lots of stuff happening beyond work, I tried writing more, and I wanted many scenes to be written if I had to stop completely. But... I felt you deserved at least an update. So consider this a small filler up rather than an actual chapter. 
> 
> Till next time.


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